


A Rational Choice

by fireinsideforfun



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2020-04-07 04:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 85,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19077727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireinsideforfun/pseuds/fireinsideforfun
Summary: She tries not to think of that night. Tries to bury it in the depths of her mind, lose the memories somewhere between miscellaneous body parts and dental floss thongs. Her feelings aren’t rational but her mind is. So she focuses on her mind, lets it take the events and distort them into something logical. Something bearable.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was in the middle of writing a cute little Brio fic when the finale aired and then I was like lol, nevermind. This was supposed to be just a one-shot. But then it got way out of hand, so now we've got a two-shot. I think we can all agree that Rio is most definitely alive. I mean that end scene was hella foreboding. So this is my version of how that would unfold. Definitely not beta'd.

She tries not to think of that night. Tries to bury it in the depths of her mind, lose the memories somewhere between miscellaneous body parts and dental floss thongs. Her feelings aren’t rational but her mind is. So she focuses on her mind, lets it take the events and distort them into something logical. Something bearable.

Beth could never have shot an innocent man like Turner. He is a cop, like Stan, just trying to do his job, just trying to do the right thing. Is he the biggest asshole in the universe in the way he goes about it? Yes. But it’s still justice that he is seeking. 

Rio was different. Rio was a criminal. He murdered people, once even weighed the option of murdering her as Demon held a gun to her temple. She couldn’t do what he was asking and she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to just walk away from it, not again. He was a bad man. He was a dangerous man. He was the rational choice. 

But she was so angry too. Angry that he was putting this on her, angry that he was putting everything on her, that he didn’t care, that for a moment there she thought he did. And so when he moved towards her, yelling at her like she was just some other whining bitch, she pulled the trigger. She pulled it without even meaning to. And she pulled it again and again once she realized what it meant. There was no going back. He would have killed her. 

He would have killed her. 

Beth couldn’t kill Turner. Rio would have killed them both. Someone was going to have to die that night. He was the rational choice. Whatever feelings she may have had aren’t to be dwelled upon. At least not purposely. She can’t control what she dreams about. 

Sometimes they’re fucking, in her marital bed, just like the last time. He’s all over her, invading every sense and feeling and she’s so close to coming. But then her hands will be at his chest and her fingers will be trailing over open bloody bullet wounds and he’s giving her that look from where he rests above her, the one he gave her after the gun went off. She always wakes up in cold sweats and has to pull back the covers quickly to run to the bathroom to vomit. 

Sometimes they’re back in his apartment. And he’s dying, bleeding out all over the floor, spluttering and in pain, but all his furniture is back and Marcus is running in calling for his daddy like it’s just any other day and she’s trying and failing to stop him from seeing. She has choke back sobs when she wakes from those dreams. 

But then sometimes it’s just them sitting out in the backyard at her picnic table. It’s a summer’s day, he’s got his chin resting in his palm as he leans against the table watching her. They’re just talking quietly, conversations she can never remember upon waking, him occasionally teasing her and letting out that big belly laugh. It’s a pleasant dream. It’s a familiar one. And although there’s no throwing up or crying, it’s by far the worst one of all. Because there’s always a split second when she wakes, before reality can sink back in, that she finds herself smiling. 

She was supposed to be the queen now. In order to be the king you have to kill the king and all that. It’s a mantra she focuses on when that prickly feeling returns to her and Rio starts showing up in her sleep too many nights in a row, like if she reminds herself that she was only following his own advice, then maybe if he were here now he could forgive her. But she isn’t the queen. Instead she wound up gaining the attention of another kind of king. A worse one. 

Hector Ramirez stabbed a man to death in front of her the first time they ever met. To this day she doesn’t know who he was or what he did, just the sounds he made as he bled out. Similar to Rio. 

It turns out taking over isn’t as simple as she thought when she doesn’t know exactly what it is she’s taking over. Rio never invited her in on that part of the business. She doesn’t have any contacts, doesn’t have anyone to follow her orders. But she did make enough noise when she was trying to figure it all out that Hector heard about Rio’s abandoned kingdom and decided to take over the reign. 

Beth didn’t argue. One google search let her know Hector Ramirez has connections with the Mexican cartel and is known to deal in guns, coke and heroin. He’s been charged multiple times with murder and assault but in all cases either evidence has gone missing, or the witnesses. He isn’t like Rio, he doesn’t believe in keeping a low profile. 

She now understands why Rio always told her to stay in her lane. It has become apparent to her that he was doing the same. He may have been king of his own enterprises, but he knew how to stay out of the way of people like Hector Ramirez. Or at least stay on his good side. From what Beth has managed to gather from her new boss, Hector was fond of him and they had worked together a few times in the past. 

Hector was easily able to slide in and take Rio’s place. He even had Demon and Bullet doing his bidding when Beth was first called upon to meet him. She thought she was dead for sure. She thought he must know that she was the one that did the deed and pulled the trigger. But instead he was only interested in Boland Motors, about using Rio’s genius as a means for transporting his own product. 

Beth tried to reason with him, explain that it was only recently that they had the FBI raiding the place. But Hector doesn’t really have conversations with people. He doesn’t allow for open discussion. He only ever has time for threats and commands. And his threats aren’t limited to her life. He talks about her children. He calls them by their names. 

That’s when Beth decided to start snitching for Turner. She saved his life. She’s hoping he’ll return the favor and save the lives of her and her family. Rio was always giving Beth second chances, she doubts Hector will do the same, and it’s only a matter of time before she screws up and finds herself on the receiving end of a bullet. She probably deserves it at this point. 

But her family does not. Ruby does not. Annie does not. Turner needed a win after the whole Boomer debacle, and he was more than happy to postpone his vacation and take her up on the offer to feed him intel on the movements of Hector Ramirez, a much bigger fish than Rio and Beth combined. A career-making criminal for any cop if they can take him down. 

Working for Rio was nothing compared to working for Hector. There was the slightest give and take when it came to Rio. Although she always walked around restless with an impending sense of doom back then, it was more about getting caught than anything else. Now she worries about being tortured to death, about her family being murdered, about their bodies been dissolved in a barrel of acid to never be found. Hector is a different breed. 

He also doesn’t give a shit about her. Rio didn’t give a shit about her towards the end either, but he still showed up when she called. Eventually. Beth doesn’t know Hector’s number even if she did need to call for help. If she dies doing a job for him, she dies. He’d just move onto other things. 

The clients she has to deal with a more dangerous too. People who are buying cars filled with heroin are not the same as those after pills. Especially when they seem to be sampling their wares. 

It’s how one evening she winds up tied to a radiator in an out of use papermill, hands and feet bound, mouth silenced with duct tape and a blindfold over her eyes. Apparently, the client was expecting someone different or something different, and before she had a chance to reassure him, her eyes distracted by his exposed arms and the way he scratched at the scabs littering his skin, pain suddenly exploded from her forehead, blood flooding her vision until everything went black. 

When she wakes, her first thought is she might as well be dead. The place is abandoned, and she knows the guy is long gone by now, taking the car and the money with him. Hector won’t forgive her for this. That was twenty grand worth of product she just lost. If she’s lucky, no one will realize she’s missing and she’ll just die of dehydration before Hector can get ahold of her. 

Dean won’t notice she’s gone. Things ended pretty soon after she took over at Boland Motors again. She didn’t even try to explain that this wasn’t her choice. She’d been feeling pretty numb to everything once the months went on and she tried to live with the fact she murdered someone. Someone that she cared about. Their marriage didn’t stand a chance at rebuilding. 

So, with him out of town with the kids on a camping trip, reluctant to ever take her calls, she wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t notice that she isn’t checking in with the children like she usually does. 

Ruby and Annie might notice, but they don’t know where she is. She tries to keep them out of Hector’s dealings as much as possible. Hector doesn’t really care about them anyway. They aren’t involved in the dealership, and since they didn’t steal from him or ask to be a part of it, he has never even mentioned them. They know him though. Beth told them so they’d know who killed her if she ever went missing. Like she is right now. 

This is why she needs to carry a gun, to avoid situations like this in the first place. Some junkie client isn’t going to jump her if she pulls a gun on him. No one is high enough to ignore a bullet. She just has to aim it at him and he’d do as she says. But she can’t bring herself to go near one. It’s been over a year now since she did what she did, and she still feels sick at the sight of them. 

She’s pulled from her thoughts when she hears the sound of feet shuffling in front of her. He’s still here. The junkie’s still here and Beth is tied up. Panic hits her hot and fast, this is worse, this is far worse than being abandoned. She can’t move, she can’t speak, she can’t see. She’s completely helpless to whatever he wants to do to her right now. 

She feels a hand on her face and her immediate reaction is to recoil, but she’s on the floor, pressed against the radiator, hands behind her back and tied with coarse rope, she’s got nowhere to go. But she can still picture his hands, the dirt and blood caked under his fingernails as they picked at bleeding scabs, so she keeps trying, pushing her head hard up against the metal until it hurts. 

The fingers come to the edge of the duct tape covering her mouth and begin pulling, steady but surprisingly gently. Beth is terrified, he’s uncovering her mouth, is he going to take off the blindfold too? Give her back her hands? Or does he only want her mouth? Her stomach churns. She can’t do this. She can feel the tears welling beneath what she can only imagine must be a dirty rag covering her eyes. 

She prepares herself. There’s a minimal chance anyone’s going to be around to actually hear her, but as soon as he gets the duct tape off she’s going to scream. She’ll scream loud, she’ll scream hard and she won’t stop. If he tries to stop her she’ll use her teeth. She’ll bite the shit out of him like some cornered animal. She’ll fight. 

She’s ready, the tape is nearly off, unsealing her stinging, red lips and she takes a deep breath through her nose in preparation. But then she smells him. She smells him and all air gained is ripped from her lungs. 

She knows that smell. She’s been wrapped up in that smell. It’s a smell that used to thrill her and make her toes curl. A smell that used to send a rush of warmth throughout her body, settling somewhere between her thighs. It’s a heady mix of cologne and sandalwood and musk and fucking danger. Beth knows that smell. 

The hands move to behind her, pulling at the knotted ropes at her wrists and she can tell he’s leaning over her now, can feel their proximity as she breathes against him. The scent is so much stronger like this and she knows his face is close to hers, wonders if she leans forward, would she be burying her face in his neck. 

But it can’t be. Because she pulled the trigger. It can’t be. 

The junkie hit her in the head pretty hard, hard enough she remembers there was blood. She’s probably got a concussion. She’s injured and confused and her mind is playing tricks on her. She sees him in her dreams, why shouldn’t he appear when she’s concussed and bleeding from a head wound? 

She whimpers a little when the rope shifts over raw skin and the hands pause in their movements. She can’t figure out why, wants to tell him to keep going. But nothing happens for a moment and if she were to guess, her concussed brain would say he was taking the opportunity to just look at her. 

She picks up on the sound of a soft exhale and Beth tips her head forward just that little bit closer. The hands start moving at her wrists again after that, quicker this time, more hurried. When they’re loosened enough she starts struggling against the rope, trying to speed up the process and free herself so she can rip the blindfold off and look. She needs to look. 

The hands move to her forearms though, stopping her, stilling her, and she waits for something, anything. But instead they disappear as suddenly as they arrived, and she hears the sound of retreating footsteps. 

She starts moving her wrists again, pulling and twisting. He’d dealt with the knots but left her tangled in the ropes and it takes her a second to find her way out of them. She goes for the blindfold as soon as she’s free and rips at it too hard, bumping the wound on her head and sending a dizzying wave of pain through her. But when she can finally see, she’s alone. There is no one. Only a duffle bag with twenty grand in it sitting beside her bound feet. 

Beth goes home that night to her lonely condo covered in blood and confusion. She’d moved out of the house and left Dean with the kids months ago. It felt safer that way. She’d rather her kids not be with her when she’s got someone like Hector and his people seeking her out at all hours. She doubts they’d have the courtesy like Rio did to hide their gun if one of her children got in the way. 

She has the worst kind of dream about him that night. The one where he’s smiling and laughing with her. And it’s only made worse because she can smell him now too, wakes up with it like he’d fallen asleep next to her. She does cry this time. 

*** 

The next time Beth meets up with Turner she can’t help herself. She didn’t really ask him a lot of questions after it happened, didn’t ask him for the details. For the longest time she didn’t want to know. She couldn’t bear knowing. 

How long did he bleed out before he stopped coughing up blood? Did Turner call an ambulance? Did they try and save him? When was he declared dead? Did they photograph the crime scene? Did they do an autopsy? Did they have him splayed out on some metal table as they took out the bullets she fired into him one by one? Who told Marcus? 

She’d never asked any of them. Turner had covered for her in return for her saving his life. As far as everyone knows it was self-defense, Rio was shot down after assaulting and kidnapping a federal agent. It was all tied up nice and neat. Beth was never questioned. But she has always had her own. And maybe now is the time she starts asking them. 

“Were you there?” she asks Turner, sitting next to him in his car, parked in some empty parking lot reminiscent of her time with Rio. “Were you there when he actually, you know, died?” 

She doesn’t say his name. She always avoids saying his name. But she knows Turner knows who she is talking about. He looks surprised by her question and fixes her with a curious look. He too probably picked up on the fact she avoided ever bringing him up. 

“Yeah, it didn’t take long after you left. Once the ambulance arrived he was already gone.” 

Beth doesn’t know how that makes her feel. Would she have preferred he had a chance? That they got him to the hospital and worked on him for as long as they could before they had to call it? 

“Was there a funeral?” she asks next. “Did his family bury him?” 

“Why you asking me these questions now? You planning on visiting his grave? Laying a few flowers?” 

God no. Never. Beth couldn’t. She doesn’t deserve to visit him in his final resting place, where he’s supposed to be finding peace. She doesn’t get to mourn. It’s not how this works. 

“No,” she says, quietly, unsure of herself. “I’ve just been thinking about him lately.” 

A lie. She hasn’t been thinking about him lately. She’d never stopped thinking about him. He’s always in the back of her mind somewhere. Has been since before the shooting. Why would it change after? 

“You did the right thing,” Turner says. “You know that, right?” 

Beth nods. Because she does. He was the right choice. The rational choice. 

“Just because it was right, doesn’t mean I don’t regret it.” She’s never said that out loud before. It feels awful. 

“Would you rather he killed the both of us instead?” 

“I would rather no one being killed at all.” 

Fuck Turner. He doesn’t understand. She isn’t going to explain it to him. Rio was bad. He was the rational choice. But it was a choice she never wanted to make. 

Instead she turns their talk to business. Turner wants her to get more information on how Hector imports his guns. An impossible request considering she’s only made it as far as drug-chauffeuring lackey within his organization. But she tells him she’ll see what she can do anyway. She signed a deal with Turner. She’ll do her best to fulfill her side of it. 

She doesn’t much care about jeopardizing herself anymore, as long as Turner promises to put Hector behind bars and far away from her family she’ll do as asked. If she dies before that happens, so be it. Though, as his informant she does now have immunity to whatever illegal activities she participates in, so she supposes that’s something to look forward to if she does make it out the other side of this alive. She may finally get to be in the clear. Some boss bitch she turned out to be. 

Later in the week she finds herself meeting with Hector. It’s rare for him to call on her directly. He’s not as hands-on as Rio (thank god), prefers to delegate, especially if it’s something he doesn’t consider important. And Beth definitely isn’t considered important. 

She assumes that means he must have heard about what happened that night. How wrong it went. Beth doesn’t really know how she’s going to explain it. Especially the part where she still wound up with the cash at the end of it all, but she’ll give it a try. Might even be honest, tell him she’s being haunted. 

She gets a text from a blocked number and they meet in a nondescript warehouse in typical crime lord fashion, his unnecessary goons on either side of him as she approaches in a pair of sensible pumps and no weapon. He’s got his usual boys with him, brothers Ace and Ash, but Beth also clocks Demon among them. It means nothing. He’d sooner shoot her in the head than give her a nod of recognition. If she does get shot for this fuck-up she kind of hopes it will be Demon. Rio’d probably enjoy the irony. 

“So Beth, how’d the drop go?” Hector asks in a light tone. 

Hector Ramirez isn’t a particularly big guy. He’s older than her, tanned skin, smoother than it should be considering the life he leads, with mostly black, salt and pepper hair. He’s handsome too. He dresses sharp in slacks and crisp white shirts. Always white. Like Rio’s were always black. 

There’s something about his voice though that always manages to scare her. It’s always light, friendly, even when someone’s dying in front of him. He comes across as cheerful, fatherly and psychotic all at once. Hector doesn’t need to bring anyone along to scare her. She’s always scared to see him. 

Beth doesn’t consider lying. She figures the reason he’s asking her this is because he already knows. 

“Well…” she starts through a sigh. 

But then she sees it. Demon is looking at her, giving her the smallest, almost undetectable, shake of his head. She barely has a second to register what he means before she is lying. 

“Well,” she says again, more confidently this time. “It went well.” 

The lie comes easy to her, better than what the truth was going to be. But she has no idea why she’s just done it. If Hector already knows than she’s just screwed herself over, signed her own death warrant. In situations like this, when she didn’t know what to do, she used to always look to Rio. So maybe that’s why then. Demon’s the closest thing she’s got to him right now. 

“Good, good,” Hector says, looking her up and down in a way that isn’t anywhere close to how Rio used to. More like he’s sizing her up than checking her out. “I’ve got another job for you, a different kind of job. Demon says you used to drive trucks for Rio?” 

Beth’s eyes shift to Demon but he’s no longer looking at her. Demon’s lying. Demon’s lying to Hector. Yeah, she drove a truck for Rio, once, and they both know how that turned out. What the fuck is going on? 

“Yes, I did,” she says because there’s something wrong with her. 

“Great,” Hector says, clapping his hands together. “I’ve got a truck that needs moving. Needs dropping off to my weapons dealer. Should be easy.” 

Weapons dealer? Guns. She’s going to be driving a truck full of firearms. That is world’s away to what she ever did for Rio. How is she going to talk her way out of this if she gets caught with them? 

“Okay. Anything I need to know? What should I do if I get pulled over?” she hedges. 

“Thought you said you’ve done this before?” Hector gives her a look bordering on suspicious and Beth feels her cheeks get hot. 

“I usually drove the decoy,” she answers quickly and hopes it sounds legit. 

Another imperceptible nod from Demon lets her know it does. 

“You shouldn’t get pulled over. That’s the point in sending you. No one cares about a middle-aged mom driving a U-Haul over state lines.” 

Beth reads between the lines. If she gets pulled over than she goes down for it. But he’s hoping she won’t. She’ll have to tell Turner about this, hope that he can steer a clear path for her. He did want to know more about the guns side of the business. It almost seems too convenient that an opportunity so good just falls into her lap so soon. But at least she doesn’t have to force the issue herself. 

Hector starts talking logistics after that, what address she needs to be at to pick the U-Haul up, how only upon arrival will she be texted the next address to deliver it to, don’t open up the back, stick to the speed limit, stay inconspicuous and on and on and on. 

Beth is distracted as she nods along. She’s staring at Demon’s meaty hands, too rough, fingers too short, too thick. It couldn’t have been him who found her. Why would he have left so quickly if it was him, only to reveal it to her now? But he knows what happened. Someone told him. 

She wants to approach him and ask, get him alone and find out what exactly happened that night. But there’s no way she’s going to be able to do that. Not with Hector here and there‘s no way she is willing to linger any longer than she has to. She’ll have to save it for the next time she sees him, hold out hope that he might have some answers for her. 

Turns out next time is when she arrives to pick up the U-Haul. She catches a cab to the address Hector had given her, an old diner outside of town, and with keys ready in hand she is surprised to find Demon already there and waiting for her. 

There was no mention the other night of him joining her. She was distracted but she was still listening. So this is something else. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks, looking over her shoulder paranoid, like this is a test and Hector’s going to show up at any moment to let her know she’s failed. 

“You got the keys?” 

It’s in this moment she realizes she’s never actually spoken to Demon before. Or he’s never actually spoken to her. He always used to just maintain a silent vigil at Rio’s side whenever they would meet. But his voice is exactly what she had imagined, low, gruff and to the point. 

Beth lets the keys jingle between her fingers as she holds them out for him to see, and she doesn’t react when he reaches out and takes them from her. Instead she just follows him to the back to watch him unlock the rear door. 

“Hector said not to open it,” she reminds him, mostly just so when she looks back on this moment, she can at least say she tried. 

Demon just continues to ignore her though, swinging the door open and revealing dozens of wooden crates stacked up against each other. It makes her fidgety. She really hopes he’s not going to pull a gun out. 

But he promptly climbs into the back of the truck and does as feared, pulling the lid of one the crates open and peering in. Beth can feel herself backing up, can see the black shine of gun metal surrounded by packaging straw from where she stands. She doesn’t want to be here. And why the fuck is she letting him do this in the first place? He hasn’t pulled a gun on her yet. She could have at least argued with him for a bit before she let him steal some of Hector’s loot. 

But as she watches, and to her surprise, Demon doesn’t reach in to pull anything out, instead he’s reaching in and putting something in, a device of some kind, a tracker if she had to guess. 

“What is that?” Beth asks from behind him, trying to catch his eye as he wedges the lid back down over the crate and shifts another on top of it just to be safe. 

Demon doesn’t answer her, just climbs back out and pulls his phone from his pocket, punching in a number and pressing the receiver to his ear. 

“Who are you calling?” 

Demon just turns his body away from her and ducks his head, waiting. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” he eventually says, whoever is on the other end of the line having picked up within the first few rings. “It’s done. Yeah, she is. No, not yet. Yeah, okay.” He hangs up after that and puts the phone back in his pocket. 

“That wasn’t Hector, was it?” Beth says. 

“Don’t mention this, yeah?” Demon nods at her. 

He then throws the keys back to her, which Beth had forgotten he had in the first place, and so has to scramble to catch them. Demon takes her distraction as an opportunity to start walking back over to his parked car across the lot. 

“Hey, wait, wait a minute,” she says, chasing after him. “You can’t just leave without telling me anything. What’s going on? Who was on the phone? Why did you have me lie? What happened in the papermill that night? Talk to me!” 

Demon huffs out a breath like he knew this was coming but was hoping to avoid it, but turns around anyway and fixes her with a pointed stare. 

“You shot Rio.” 

Beth’s stomach lurches so violently at his words she thinks she just might throw up on the spot. 

“I-I… It wasn’t-“ 

“The cameras were on that night.” 

It takes Beth less than a second to realize what he’s talking about. Rio’s apartment had cameras. How could Beth have forgotten that? Demon saw it. Demon saw her kill him. The nausea keeps coming in waves. 

“You keep your mouth shut, okay? You keep this,” Demon motions towards the truck, “between you and me. And I’ll do the same about that night. Deal?” 

Beth doesn’t answer, she can’t. If Demon was watching that camera, then not only did he see her gun Rio down, but he saw her run away and leave him there too, would have kept watching as Rio bled to death on the floor of the home he once shared with his son. He would have seen it all. 

“Come on Mrs. B,” Demon tries again. “If I show Hector that footage, if he sees you killing Rio to save a fed, you’re done for. You know that. Say we have a deal.” 

It was being recorded. There’s a video. 

“We have a deal.” 

She waits for Demon to leave before she stumbles off the pavement and over to the grassy lawn to throw up. 

*** 

“Do you think it would hurt getting shot in the chest? Or do you think the shock of it all would be so overwhelming that you wouldn’t feel much?” 

“Um, what?” 

Beth had trouble recovering after her encounter with Demon. And after driving the U-Haul for nearly two hours now with nothing but her own thoughts to haunt her, she decided to call Annie. She kept thinks light and trivial at first, asking about Sadie, the Noah situation, whether she should finally get Kenny that math tutor. But too soon her mind gets the best of her. 

“I’ve just read accounts from different people who’ve been shot before, and a lot of them say that they were in such a state of shock that they didn’t even feel the pain, just a sudden pressure and heat. So I just thought maybe for him, and it being three bullets, that it’d be a similar experience.” 

There’s a beat of silence before Annie answers her. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I guess I’ve just been reading too many articles online.” It doesn’t sound convincing, even to her. 

“Probably. But then, we’ve never really talked about it before, or at least not since it happened. I figured you preferred it that way, so I didn’t bring it up either, but now that you have, maybe you should be talking about it to someone.” Annie’s voice is softer and gentler than it’s ever been, like they’ve switched places and somewhere along the line she became the big sister. 

“I said I’m fine Annie. It’s nothing. I was just curious. I was just making conversation,” she insists. 

“You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine for a while now Beth. You barely eat, you barely sleep, I can’t remember the last time I saw you with an actual smile on your face. You’re a shadow of the person you used to be and I’m fucking worried, okay?” 

Beth stays quiet for a moment, her eyes welling with tears. She composes herself before answering. 

“Look, I’ve been a bit stressed lately, I know. But it has nothing to do with what happened that night. It’s just work stuff, running jobs for Hector while also trying to hide the fact I’m working with the FBI, it’s hard. It takes a toll. But it’ll be over soon and things will go back to normal. I promise.” 

“Really? You promise?” Annie asks disbelieving. “What does soon even mean? It can take years to gather enough evidence to take someone like Hector Ramirez down. Years! And don’t get me started on whatever the hell you consider normal these days. You need help Beth. You need to talk about him. With someone. Anyone.” 

Beth refuses to acknowledge she’s right. She’s been hanging on by a thread for so long she can’t afford to admit defeat now. She needs to keep it together and see this thing with Hector through first. She can have a breakdown later. 

“Annie, please?” Beth begs. “Just leave it? I’m okay, really. I just need some time is all.” 

Annie mumbles something under her breath, something about being a stubborn idiot that Beth chooses to ignore, and they go back to discussing whether it looks like it’s going to rain. 

Beth ends the call at some point to let Turner know where she’s been instructed to leave the truck. She doesn’t mention Demon’s last-minute addition amongst the cargo up back. She didn’t mention what happened at the papermill to him either, didn’t feel like sharing just how far her sanity’s slipped. 

It’s left her in an awkward position, she can’t really explain why she lied for Demon and went along with his plan, without admitting to omitting information from him. It’s all very confusing. Turner’s not going to take it well though when he finds out a gangbanger has evidence contradicting the official report he submitted to his superiors of what went down that night. 

A part of her thinks fuck it, even if admitting she lied to him makes the deal she cut with him null and void, maybe it’s worth it if he can get the footage back. If he can destroy it. The idea of Demon showing the video to people and letting them see what she did, horrifies her, but what scares her even more, what claws at the inside of her gut to the point of being sick, is the idea of Demon showing that footage to her, forcing her to relive it. She can’t go back there. She can’t go back to that night. She’ll never recover if she has to sit and watch how she let Rio die. 

Beth felt intense shame when Demon told her he knew she was the one that pulled the trigger. It made her feel worse than she has in a long time, and that’s saying something all things considered. Maybe it’s because she was finally facing someone who knew him, who likely cared about him. Or perhaps it had more to do with just how disgusted Demon looked talking to her. 

It takes Beth two buses and twice as long to get back home on the return journey. She is tired from the day's events, sore from sitting down so long cramped between a window and a lecherous manspreader. 

She is ready to throw herself at her mattress and be dead to the world, hopefully manage at least a solid six hours of sleep before she has to wake up to drop the kids off at school. Even though they don’t stay with her in the condo she still tries to be a part of their daily routines as much as possible. 

When she passes the kitchen however, she notices something out of place. There’s a glass of bourbon sitting in the center on the counter. Beth stares at it for some time, trying to remember if she poured it for herself earlier and just forgot all about it on her way out. 

She is almost positive she didn’t. And if she didn’t it means someone’s been here. Demon? Is he trying to drive his point home and scare her even more into staying quiet? Hector? Does he know what happened earlier? Is this a warning? 

She thinks about calling Ruby and Annie, making them come over and stay by her side as they thoroughly search every inch of the condo together, maybe making Annie stay the night too so she doesn’t have to be alone. Instead though she just downs the liquor and goes to bed. If Demon wants her scared, she’s scared. If Hector knows, then she’ll be dead soon anyway. May as well catch some z’s in the meantime. 

*** 

Beth knows she must be losing it. She went from being a put together, perfectionist of a housewife, preoccupied with maintaining appearances, to no longer caring if someone has broken into her home to murder her. She’s taking risks she never used to. But if she’s being honest, sometimes she thinks it would be better if someone did do her in. Hector would no longer be a threat to her family if she were dead. 

It’s probably why she doesn’t even startle when she comes home the next day to find Demon in her kitchen. If anything, it just makes her chest ache thinking about how way back in the beginning, she used to find a very different kind of gangbanger waiting for her. It’s fucking ridiculous how she considers that part of her life a simpler time. 

“Hi Demon,” she says, continuing into the kitchen with her bag of groceries in hand. “What can I do for you now?” 

Beth isn’t stupid. She knew this wasn’t just a onetime thing. In this line of work, once you’ve got someone on the hook, there is no such thing as catch and release. 

“I know Turner’s got you snitching.” 

Shocking. But not as effective as him revealing he knows she’s the one that killed Rio. That one hit her like a sucker punch. She is able to keep it together this time. 

“How do you know that? Are you following me?” She figures there is no point in denying it. Demon wouldn’t be coming to her with this unless he was sure. 

“Does it matter how I know?” 

“No, not really,” she sighs. “So, what now then? Are you going to finally kill me? You want to kill him?” 

Demon inclines his head for a second considering, like both of those options appeal to him, but ends up shaking his head at her. 

“I need you to start feeding our FBI friend rotten intel. I’ll tell you what needs to be said, I’ll even give you documents to back it up. From now on, you come to me first, and I’ll sign off on what can and cannot be passed along about Hector.” 

Okay, so maybe it’s not that fucking ridiculous to consider her past with Rio as simpler times. 

“You can’t be serious?” Beth says nervously. “Turner’s going to notice if the leads I provide him with are a bunch of trumped-up lies. He’s going to figure it out in a second.” 

“Nope. The intel is going to be close enough to the truth that it’ll take him months before he realizes he’s got a whole bunch of nothing.” 

“But I don’t want him to have a whole bunch of nothing. I want him to put Hector away. He threatened to kill my children just to ensure my compliance. We have a deal. I can’t do what you’re asking.” 

Demon comes towards her then, gun in hand, getting close enough to intimidate but not moving to touch her or turn the barrel on her either. 

“Listen to me, this isn’t about Hector as much as it is about his business. I’m going to let you talk to Turner, I’m going to let you incriminate him, the man, the individual. It’s just going to be everything else specific to his organization that you’re going to lie about. Do you understand?” he glares at her. “This is not something I’m asking you to do. You don’t have a choice. You’re the rat who shot Hector’s golden boy. You’re doing this.” 

Beth needs a second and she puts some space between them, stepping back and propping herself against the back of the couch. 

“So, you want Hector to go down, but you want his empire left intact. Why? Are you planning a takeover?” 

“No more questions,” Demon says dismissively. “Just tell me that you get it.” 

Beth nods absentmindedly, “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Her brain is racing as she tries to piece together this new puzzle. Something’s not sitting right with her, besides the obvious threats of exposure and death. 

“Good.” Demon either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about the internal war that’s waging inside her head, walking over to the front door, ready to leave now that he’s got what he needed from her. 

“Wait,” Beth says, right as his fingers close around the handle. Demon hesitates and looks back at her. “The other day, when you were on the phone… This isn’t your idea, is it? You’re following orders. There’s someone else pulling the strings behind the scenes, isn’t there?” 

Demon actually smiles at her, lets out a small laugh. “You have a good rest of your day now Mrs. B, I’ll be seeing you.” 

With that he’s gone. Beth decides she needs a drink. 

She hasn’t been back to the bar in a long time, but even a year on it’s exactly how she remembered. She’s not sure exactly what she’s expecting when she slides onto one of the stools, but certainly not the rush of sadness that pulls at her when she glances at the empty seat next to her. 

She orders a bourbon, on the rocks, and she hears his voice in her mind saying it with her. This’d be the time he’d start giving her a much-needed pep talk. One she wouldn’t appreciate in the moment but come to understand later. 

This is her mess she’s created. She shot Rio and forgot about the camera. She tried to get back in the game and she failed at it, attracting the wrong kind of attention. She sought out Turner, she decided to keep things from him, and now she’s going to have to do it again. But she is going to do it. She’s going to see this through, be a boss bitch. 

She’s on her second bourbon when nature calls, and it feels like déjà vu as she twirls her hair and makes her way to the bathrooms in the back. It’s longer than it’s been in years. She tells herself it’s just because she hasn’t got around to cutting it. 

Stepping inside the small bathroom, she pauses when she catches sight of herself in the mirror, her eyes focusing on the door behind her where he had once stood, the wall that he had pressed her against. Her hands find the sink, gripping cold porcelain, remembering. It feels like too much. The emotions are suffocating. She decides she can hold it for now and practically runs out of there. 

She plans on leaving, deciding this is a bad idea, when she notices there’s a wine glass sitting on the bar where she had been just moments earlier. She looks around, it’s a little early in the day for drinking, there’s no one else here. 

“Um, excuse me?” she says, drawing the attention of the bartender as she approaches her abandoned stool. “Is this for me? I didn’t order this.” 

The bartender gives her a once over and nods his head in recognition. 

“Ah! So you’re the pretty redhead out back. Yep, this is yours. The chardonnay.” 

Beth glances at the glass in front of her and tries to swallow against the lump in her throat. 

“Someone was here? They ordered this for me?” she asks nervously. “Did you see them?” 

“Uh, no sorry,” he shakes his head. “I only just started my shift.” 

Oh. Right. How did she not notice this isn’t the same guy who was serving her not five minutes ago? They don’t even look remotely alike. She really needs to pay more attention to her surroundings. She’s liable to miss something important if she keeps going on like this. 

“I was just told this was for the pretty redhead out back,” he continues with a smile. “Which I’m pretty sure means you. But I can get you something else if you don’t want it? The drinks already been paid for.” 

“No, no it’s okay,” Beth says sitting back down. “I’ll drink it.” 

Which she does, despite how terrible it tastes. That internal war inside her head wages on. 

*** 

Beth gets to work with Demon straight away. He comes to her condo at odd hours and goes over with her what her latest story for Turner is going to be. For the most part she’s telling the truth, giving him an honest overview of her day to day dealings under Hector’s purview. It almost feels like nothing’s changed. 

The main details always stay the same, she can tell him about the job she’s been asked to complete and what it involves. It’s just the smallest of changes that make it a lie; the supplier’s name, the wrong dates, a different location. Sometimes Demon’s having her tell the exact truth in full. Allowing for the risk if it’s a client that doesn’t bring in much money, or a contact that can be easily replaced. 

It’s strange, but she’s started to trust Demon through all of this. He may not be the friendliest towards her, and he may still give her this angry, betrayed look whenever Rio gets mentioned, a topic she tries to stay far away from, but he knows what he’s doing and he’s keeping his word. He hasn’t told anyone what he knows. 

It’s not like it was with Rio. She’s not looking to invite him to stay for a drink or two after they’re done talking business or anything like that, but it is nice not feeling so completely alone in this for a change. 

She isn’t deluding herself. The thought has occurred to her that perhaps once Demon’s plan comes to fruition and he no longer needs her playing interference with Turner, that he may be looking to find a more permanent solution to keep her quiet than just the use of blackmail. But she isn’t worrying about that now. She’ll just have to figure it out when the times comes. Which makes her sound incredibly level-headed about the whole thing, but if you were to ask Annie, she’d just say Beth’s given up. 

And maybe Beth has. Maybe she resigned herself to this fate the second she pulled that trigger so long ago now. It explains why she decides one night that since she can’t ask Turner about Rio without receiving a lecture on how he’s better off dead, and she can’t bring it up with Demon without him looking at her like she’s better off dead, that she’s going to ask Hector. 

She’s only been alone with Hector once or twice. It doesn’t happen very often. Usually only when they meet at one of the warehouses he owns instead of neutral territory, and Ace and Ash have stepped away for a few minutes to run in and grab something Beth is going to need for the job ahead. 

So the next time the opportunity presents itself after a particularly restless night dreaming about his golden boy, curiosity gets the better of her. 

“My old boss, were you and he close?” she asks. 

Hector turns to her slowly, a quizzical smile on his face. They both know she’s not one for chit-chat, this is probably the first time she’s ever initiated conversation with him. 

“Sorry,” she quickly says, losing whatever reckless confidence that had taken hold the second his eyes are boring into hers. “Nevermind. It’s none of my business. Forget I said anything.” 

“No, no, it’s okay. Go on, my dear. Ask me what it is you want to know?” 

God, he makes her feel sick. Smiling at her all friendly like he never once threatened to murder her children in front of her. Why did she open her mouth? 

“Nothing. It was nothing. I just heard you were fond of him and you know, it’s been over a year now but, I was too.” Beth tries to sound sweet, she tries to sound sincere. It isn’t hard considering she isn’t lying. 

“Yes, Rio knew how to make an impression, didn’t he?” Hector muses, a genuine smile adorning his face. “Smart as a whip. And sly like a fox. You always had to watch him. I was sad when I heard he’d been killed. Truly.” 

Beth can’t help but smile too. He was clever. Too fucking clever. 

“It was such a pity what happened to him,” he continues. “Just wish it weren’t under those circumstances. Death by cop? He deserved better. Though some say it was pussy that did him in in the end.” 

Beth’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. Her cheeks immediately coloring red. Does he know? He couldn’t possibly. 

“What?” Hector asks, misreading her unease. “Too crass?” 

Beth shakes her head because no, she’s used to Hector’s vulgarity. He acts all polite and full of chivalry, but only because he likes watching the shock on people’s faces when he comes out with something repulsive. 

Hector chuckles at her, amused by her manners. 

“All I’m saying is, and it’s only gossip, but what can I say? I’m partial myself. Rumor was he let a pair of tits distract him from what’s important. A story I’ve heard a thousand times, mind you. They start worrying more about who’s in their bed rather than who’s filling their wallets. It never ends well. But you would know better than me, you were working for him at the time.” 

He’s watching her intently, waiting for her response. There’s a part of her that worries he knows she’s the ‘pair of tits’ people have been referring to. But no, he looks more curious than accusatory. He doesn’t suspect. Besides, she doesn’t even know for sure if she is the woman they’re referring to. Rio was young, he was attractive. He could have had other women in his life she never knew about. Maybe one of them even meant something to him. 

“No, not really,” she says honestly. “He didn’t really share much about his personal life with me. He was a pretty private person.” 

“Too true. Always holding his cards so close to his chest. So mysterious. So handsome.” Hector sighs and makes a humming noise under his breath. “It’s always the good ones that die young, isn’t that what they say?” 

So that’s what Demon meant when she called Rio Hector’s golden boy. She had been thinking on it ever since he used the expression and wondered if Hector was perhaps a mentor to him, or if they were particularly close. But no, Hector just liked him. Like liked him. Beth hadn’t picked it but she isn’t surprised. If anything, she’s more annoyed that this was apparently something Beth and he had in common. Because of course even a cold-blooded monster like Hector Ramirez wasn’t immune to Rio’s charm. 

What bothers her the most though, and she feels embarrassed to think it, is the fact that Hector didn't even for a moment consider that Beth could have been the woman Rio was sleeping with around the time of his death. Like it wasn't even a possibility in his mind. He just saw her as some middle-aged mom, past her prime, no match for his golden boy. 

But Rio didn't feel that way. Rio didn't make Beth feel that way. Whether or not sleeping with her was all part of his manipulations, Beth can never be sure, but it didn't change the way it made it her feel. Like she was important. Like she was sexy. Like she was worth it. 

She sits with these thoughts as she drives home from the warehouse that night. Remembers all the little things. The way he would look at her, touch her face, say her name. It seems so far away from her now. She hasn't had much of a libido of late, she's back to that drought she'd been stuck in before Rio showed up in her life. She tried having sex with Dean a couple of times when they were working on salvaging their marriage, but it just never felt right. Never made her feel anything. 

When she gets home she knows Demon's been in the house. There's a folder on the counter and an empty whisky glass in the sink. He does this sometimes. If her latest task for Turner is simple enough and doesn't warrant a face-to-face meeting, she'll come home and find instructions either on the bench, or the couch, one time on her bedside table in her bedroom. 

An unnecessary intimidation tactic as far as Beth is concerned. Firstly, Rio used to break into her house all of the time, so it doesn't exactly scare her anymore. And secondly, Demon knows full well that there is no way she is going to defy him while he has that tape in his possession. Just slide the folder under the door and stay out of her bedroom. 

The house is dark and she strips off her clothes lazily as she makes her way to her room, leaving only her shirt and panties on as she collapses onto her bed. She lies there for a moment motionless, just staring at the ceiling, considering whether she should go and find out what exactly it is Demon has left her. But her thoughts are elsewhere with Rio, and without much thought to what she is doing, a hand makes its way down her stomach and into her underwear. 

It's been a while for even this. She's just never in the mood for it anymore. But thinking about Rio? Thinking about what he used to do to her? Her body reacts the same way it used to. She works two fingers in easily, sinking back into the covers and eyes falling closed. She shouldn't be doing this. She knows it's wrong after what she did to him. But she doesn't stop. She just lets it happen. 

Her cheeks are flushed and she's panting. Little whines escaping her lips as she moves her fingers faster, curling them like he used to, letting her palm press against her clit. Dean was always so respectful when it came to these kinds of things, always so gentle and patient with their foreplay. But she could tell he was always just waiting until he could get to the good part. Which he then treated like a goddamn race, hurrying to reach the finish line. 

But Rio? Rio savored all of it. He would kiss her like that was the good part. He would go down on her like that was the good part, sink his fingers into her, let her ride them. For Rio, all of it was the good part. 

She turns her head to the side, burying it into the pillow, hair slick across her forehead. She's right on the edge, Rio's face clouding her mind, but is pulled from her thoughts when she swears she hears a noise coming from the doorway of her bedroom. 

She rips her hand from her panties and sits bolt upright, eyes blinking open rapidly as they track around the room, desperate to confirm she is still alone. No one is there, but the door to her bedroom is wobbling slightly, moving so minutely she has to stare at it for some time to register that it really is happening. 

Beth launches herself out of bed and stops in the doorway, searching through the darkness of her condo for any shadowy figures that shouldn't be there. Again, there is no one. Her hand comes up to press against the door and reasons that any slight breeze from an open window could have created that motion, and she knows she left the kitchen window slightly ajar this morning to let some fresh air in. 

She should be relieved, would almost feel it too if it weren't for the fact she swears she can smell his cologne lingering in the air. So strong and familiar like he had just been standing in the doorway where she is now, watching her. Beth's knees buckle out from under her and she slides down the length of the door until she can bury her head in her knees. The sobs come out of nowhere. 

She's going mad. She killed him. She killed him and she still wants him. She killed him and she's touching herself thinking about. She killed him and she's not relieved that she's alone right now. She killed him and she misses him. 

*** 

When Beth finally gets around to reading what’s inside the folder, she finds only a single sheet of paper reading: 

TELL TURNER EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS AND KEEP YOUR COOL. 

Beth reads it about five times before she can accept she's reading it right. Keep your cool? What the fuck does that mean? What exactly is happening? Usually when she opens the folder there's a clear outline detailing the changes to the story she's going to feed Turner. This is... She doesn't know what this is. 

She doesn't have Demon's number to call either. He's never contacted her over the phone before. She doesn't know what she's supposed to be doing. Something obviously is going on and like usual she's being kept in the dark. Why did Demon have to take so many pointers from working with Rio? The whole 'let's not let Beth in on the plan even though she's going to be heavily affected by it' thing is getting super old. And honestly, she doesn't really need something else feeding into her paranoia right now. 

This does not bode well considering she's supposed to be moving another truck full of guns for Hector tonight. Having to be told to keep her cool very much implies something stressful is going to be happening. Around firearms. She wonders if Hector would let her call in sick? A humorous thought, but one she obviously does not go through with. 

That's how she finds herself hours later, driving the truck, staring at every car that comes up behind her, convinced she's being followed. She very nearly rear-ends a car in front of her at one point because she's so preoccupied with the idea someone's tailing her. At least she doesn't have as far to go this time. She wouldn't survive making another cross-country journey in this state of mind. Instead it's just an hour out of town to pick up the truck, and then drive it back to Hector's warehouse. 

She actually breathes a sigh of relief when she manages to make it there uninterrupted, happy that for once something has gone smoothly for her with no surprises. Hector mentioned he wasn't going to be here too, so she doesn't even have to prepare herself for that encounter either. She just has to wait for them to raise the roller-door for her, drive in, hand the keys over to Ash, then go home and’ keep her cool’ underneath her blankets in bed. Asleep. Now is just the homerun. 

But she's never been very good at sports, so she gets as far as handing the keys to Ash before she hears yelling and the sound of gunshots. 

Ash is already ducking for cover behind some crates while Beth freezes, and Ace appears out of nowhere making his way beside him with his gun in hand. There are others coming out from Hector’s crew too, faces she's never put names to, all with their guns drawn. Beth finally moves to follow in Ash's direction when it's too late, the source of the yelling and gunfire becomes apparent and she is suddenly surrounded by five men in black ski-masks. 

They use the truck as cover and pull her behind it with them, one of them immediately grabbing for her and slamming her against the side of it, holding her there by her neck. 

"Where's the keys? Who did you give the keys to?" a familiar voice asks her. 

"Demon! Are you fucking kidding me?" 

"Shhhh,” he hushes her. 

"You scared the shit out of me," she says shoving at him, but he doesn't let go, she assumes for the sake of pretense. "Why couldn't you just tell me the plan?" 

"Now is really not the time Mrs. B. Just tell me where the keys are," Demon says, and he doesn't sound that put out despite the fact there's basically a gunfight going on around them. 

The guys in his crew are crouched by the truck's back tires, firing off bullets every now and then as they eagerly await Demon's next order. Except one guy, taller than him, leaning back against the truck, looking away from them. 

"Ash. I gave them to Ash. He's behind one of the crates in the left corner, next to Ace." 

Demon nods and releases her, gets down next to his guys and barks some orders, then three of them are rounding the truck. One remains crouched by the tire, the other taller one at the other side, guns going off and providing the others cover to move further into the warehouse, ducking behind crates and pillars. 

Beth hears a yell of pain and she panics for a moment that it's Demon. He literally just had a hand at her throat and has been blackmailing her for weeks now, but that doesn't mean she wants him dead. He's all she's got in this. The fourth man at the tire runs into the fray and Beth uses the opportunity to take his place, pressing herself against the truck and edging around the corner to try and find out what's going on. Beth actually sees it when a bullet flies past her head, but doesn't have time to react before she's being dragged back behind the truck with a hand over her mouth, a body pushing her face first into the cold metal. 

She had forgotten about Demon's fifth man, the tall one. He's got her pinned now. Keeps his hand over her mouth while the other arm darts out around the truck to return fire. With her forehead pressed against the truck, she can only see the edge of his black mask in her periphery, and his grip tightens around her jaw every time she tries to turn her head towards him. 

She struggles against him for a moment, pulling at his hands, tears welling up in her eyes from the adrenaline of it all, but then his scent hits her. Just like it did in the papermill. Just like it did in the doorway of her bedroom. She stops. It can't be. She knows it can't be. But she still stops fighting back, just letting him hold her there. If it's one of Demon's men than he doesn't plan to hurt her anyway, just keep her out of the way. She'll let him. 

It's such a familiar smell. It's such a comforting smell, and it is so irrational that she lets it calm her down. It's probably just a coincidence, it's probably just her guilt manifesting itself, it's probably been so long she doesn't even remember it right. 

She finds herself matching her breathing to his, letting the slow rise and fall of his chest against her back guide her own, ground her. And without realizing she winds up less pressed against the truck and more resting against him. 

He must notice because he shifts his hand away from her mouth and wraps an arm around her upper chest, coming to rest his hand at her shoulder and pulling her into him. If anyone were looking it'd appear that he was holding her hostage, all he'd have to do is push the barrel of the gun against her temple and they'd be playing their parts. But he doesn't. He keeps it at his side, looking around the corner every few seconds to keep an eye on things. 

Beth wants to turn around and look at him. She wants to know for sure that she's wrong. That she's just slipping. But he keeps her where she is and she finds her head resting against his shoulder as she waits it out. It doesn't take long before three out of the four return back behind the truck. She thankfully notes Demon as one of them despite the ski-mask. 

Finally, she also feels the arm around her begin to release and she is ready to round on him and look him in the eye, because even without the rest of his face, she'll know for sure it's just in her mind. But before she can, pain erupts at the back of her skull and she's out cold. 

She wakes later to Ace shaking her awake on the grimy floor of the warehouse, the truck is gone, and there are at least four dead bodies littered around the floor inside. Ash is one of them, two are unknown to her, and one is someone she hasn't seen with Hector but she definitely recognizes from her encounters with Rio, so probably one of Demon's men. She tries not to look at them as she feigns ignorance to what just happened. She keeps her cool. 

*** 

"Who hit me?" Beth yells the second she discovers Demon in her kitchen. 

Beth has been sporting a lump the size of a tennis ball at the back of her head, and a splitting headache for two days now. She’s been gearing herself up for a fight that whole time. 

Demon sighs, once again not wanting to deal with what Rio would refer to as her ‘drama’. But fuck it. 

"Who hit me?" She repeats, just as loud, just as hysterical. 

"We had to make it as realistic as possible," Demon says honestly. "It's why we chose not to tell you about it in the first place. So you'd be genuinely surprised. Just be thankful you were only hit once, if it were anyone else, he'd probably have beat you around a little." 

"Who is he? What does that mean?” she demands. "It's the same guy from the papermill, isn't it?" 

Demon rolls his eyes, sick of hearing the same questions. But maybe if he answered one every once and a while, they wouldn't be having this conversation. "He's one of my boys, alright? That’s all you need to know. I’m staging a takeover, you really think I'd do it without some backup?" 

"I don't think you’re the one doing it at all. I think you are the backup." 

Demon nods, even lets out a bitter chuckle. "Look, I'm only here to tell you that we'll be making a move on Hector soon. Might be best if you lay low for a while." 

"What’s that supposed to mean? I thought what you pulled off the other night was a move?" 

"Nah, that was just to throw him off balance. Hit him in his wallet and on his home territory. These next few weeks are going to get more complicated. He's going to be looking for blood and it's going to become real obvious he should be looking among his own." 

"Well then how the hell am I supposed to lay low?" Beth asks. "If I all of a sudden stop showing up it's going to be real obvious that I’m the one he’s looking for." 

"Nah, it's business as usual with Hector. But you're due to meet Turner today. You tell him what happened. Tell him you think Hector's onto you and you won't be able to meet for a while. Cause when Hector does start suspecting someone's making a play, he's going to look at his newest additions first. You don't want someone tailing you and finding you meeting with a fed." 

"Jesus," Beth says, nodding in understanding. She knew it was going to get dangerous but she hadn't really thought out the reality of what that would entail. "What if Turner doesn't accept that? What if he wants me to keep snitching?" 

"You make him. You need to look squeaky clean when Hector comes looking." 

Great. It's one of those ‘I don’t give a damn if you try, you gotta win’ moments. No advice. No strategy. Just get it done. She really hopes Turner's in an understanding mood when she sees him. She can’t wait for this whole thing to be over. 

"Are you going to kill him?" Beth asks curiously. 

Demon had said it was okay for Beth to incriminate Hector to Turner, but that doesn’t mean the plan wasn’t always to put him in the ground anyway. 

"Hector or Turner?" 

She hadn’t thought about that, she shrugs. "Both." 

"Would it bother you?" Demon counters. 

A question that surprises her, Demon usually doesn't care much for her opinion on things. 

"Hector? No. But Turner is helping me." 

Demon scoffs angrily. "He isn't helping you." 

"What does that mean?" 

Demon glares at her, stalking over to her and getting up in her space. "It means you backed the wrong horse. You see, I gotta friend in the FBI and he looked into that little deal you mentioned. And guess what he found? Nothing. It doesn't exist. Turner's not even on an active assignment right now, he's down as being on extended leave. He's setting you up just as much as he is Hector. He’s trying to take you both down." 

"But... I don't understand,” Beth says, searching Demon’s face for the answer. “Why would he do that?" 

"What? You thought he'd give up on his little vendetta so soon after you humiliated him?" 

"But I saved his life!" 

"By shooting Rio?" Demon growls at her. 

Beth feels her heart in her throat. He’s never hidden his anger towards her over what she has done. She was aware of it from the very moment he told her he knew. But he’s showing her something else right now. Something new. There’s still anger, but there’s also sadness. Genuine sadness. 

"I didn't want to shoot him," she responds, but it comes out weak, almost a whisper. “I didn’t want to make that choice.” 

Before Demon can answer, Beth’s phone sounds from her pocket, drawing both their attention. She’s got a message, and she takes the opportunity to put some distance between them as she pulls it from her jeans to check. A blocked number. Hector. 

“It’s Hector,” Beth tells him, not meeting his eyes. “He wants me at the warehouse now. Says it’s important.” 

Demon just nods in response, back to observing her with an air of indifference as he glances at his own phone. Beth knows she’s not going to get anything more out of him tonight. She doesn’t bother waiting for him to leave before she heads out. He’s broken in enough times. She’s sure he’ll lock up. 

Beth is apprehensive upon arrival, the place looking dark and deserted. Usually Hector’s men are milling about, sparing her a menacing glance as she passes them. But tonight there’s no one. It’s a ghost town. She wonders if she’s beat Hector here. 

Beth hesitates outside the door, remembering all the blood and carnage she saw the last time she was here, having to mentally prepare herself for any leftover evidence that may still remain. But it’s a pointless venture, because by the time Beth has swung the door open and stepped inside, all she sees is the butt end of a gun as it cracks down hard against her face. Just like the last time she feels the eruption of pain before she sinks into the black. 

*** 

Beth is getting really sick of people knocking her unconscious. That’s her first thought when she starts to come to. She’s barely recovered from the last hit to the head and she feels like she’s going to wind up with some permanent brain damage someday soon if this becomes a trend. 

Her second thought, upon finding that she is currently sitting upright, wrists tied to the arms of a chair, ankles tied to its legs, is that she is sick of people tying her up. Though admittedly, this is only the second time that this has happened. 

Her third thought, probably the most important, has something to do with the gun Ace currently has levelled at her face, and goes along the same lines as the previous two. 

“What- what are you doing?” she mumbles, still a little foggy and face stiff from the swelling she can already feel forming across her left cheekbone. 

She tries to glance around her, has enough awareness to know she should be more wary of Hector’s whereabouts than Ace’s gun. She’s seated in the middle of the warehouse, the surprisingly empty warehouse, barren of its usual crates and wares. Which makes sense, Beth figures, this was Hector’s main warehouse and it got hit, he’d be stupid not to relocate. But the cold hollowness only adds to the foreboding. 

Ace notices her searching eyes and seems to guess who she is looking for. 

“He’s not here,” he adds helpfully. “But he will be soon.” 

“Ace,” Beth starts, as calmly as she can muster. “What’s going on? Why am I in this chair?” 

“You’re good, you’re very good,” Ace says, smiling at her cruelly. “You know, Hector always believed it, he bought that whole naive housewife crap, didn’t suspect for a moment that you were the rat. But not me. I always knew there was something off about you.” 

“What are you talking about?” Beth manages despite the fear slowly gripping her tighter and tighter. 

How do they know already? Demon only just told her to lay low. He said they were going to make a play in the coming weeks. What changed? 

“I watched the surveillance footage from that night,” Ace starts. “Didn’t even notice it the first couple of times, thought you were just as surprised as the rest of us. And he grabbed you rough enough, kept you pinned tight against the truck as they shot the rest of us down.” 

“And?” Beth says, frustrated, tugging at the restraints at her wrist in a futile effort. “After that he cracked me over the back of the head with his gun, knocked me out cold just like you did earlier. What else was there to see?” 

Ace sniggers a little and his eyes trace her face, as if admiring his handiwork. 

“No, see, it happened before that. It was happening the whole time. I mean, you barely fought back.” 

“He was stronger than me. He had a gun,” Beth argues. 

“Yet not once did he hold it to your head, doesn’t even use you as cover to join the ambush. Now why is that? Why would he keep you with him behind the truck and leave the other members of his crew on their own?” 

“I don’t know,” Beth pleads. “Maybe he was told to stay with the truck. It was the target. And you said it yourself, people see me as the naïve housewife. I was unarmed, hardly a threat. Maybe he just wanted me out of the way.” 

“I do agree with you there,” Ace says, levelling his eyes with her, hands coming to rest on her forearms as he bears his weight down. “He most certainly wanted you out of the way. But let’s be honest, he wasn’t there keeping you captive, he was there keeping you covered.” 

“No, that’s not true. I don’t even-“ 

Her words are interrupted by Ace backhanding her cross the face. She immediately tastes the blood. 

“Don’t fucking lie to me! I know it was you. You told them where the truck was going to be, you gave those keys to Ash and then you sent them in there after him.” 

“No, no I didn’t.” 

Another hit, this time to her side, along her ribs. A strangled noise escapes her as the air is stolen from her lungs. 

Ace laughs. “I knew you’d be a moaner.” His hand comes down to press into her side where he’s just sunk his fist in, squeezing another groan of pain out of her. 

“Fuck you,” Beth manages to hiss through gritted teeth. 

“No. Fuck you, bitch. You wait till Hector gets here, he doesn’t bother with fists, just starts removing fingers. We’ll see what kind of mouth you’ve got on you then.” 

Beth just spits blood back at him, and before she knows it knuckles are colliding with her face and she’s out again. She guesses it is a trend. 

The next time Beth wakes someone’s touching her face, fingers trailing down her cheek and lifting her chin. It’s a familiar gesture but she’s in so much pain she can’t bear to open her eyes, she just mouths his name like a prayer and passes out again. 

The next time after that she is vaguely aware she’s now lying down, probably in a bed, a warm blanket over her, there’s a weight near her legs, the sound of voices talking. She presses her fingers to palms, counting. All ten. She falls back to sleep. 

*** 

Beth doesn’t know how long she sleeps. Not long enough considering the pain she’s still in when she wakes. Sitting up is a challenge, she has to take it slow, using only shallow breaths. Her left side has taken a lot of damage. Same with the left side of her face. Ace is right-handed, it makes sense. 

She doesn’t recognize the room she’s in, just that it’s a bedroom, plain and neat and impersonal. She’s confused, but she has more pressing matters at hand. She needs to get to a bathroom. She hadn’t noticed at first, too overwhelmed by the pain, but she’s desperate for the toilet, an indication that she must have been out for some time. 

Beth has to walk slow too, trying not to jostle her injured side, and somewhere in the back of her mind she registers the fact she is no longer wearing her own clothes. Instead of her sweater and jeans, she’s now got a white t-shirt on and a pair of black sweatpants. But she doesn’t have time to think about the implications behind that right now. 

The door to the bedroom is closed, but there’s an open doorway leading into a small ensuite bathroom that she heads for. She doesn’t have the energy to close the door behind her as she struggles to shimmy her pants down her hips so she can sit down on the toilet. 

She feels the first semblance of relief as she empties her aching bladder, resting her arms on her legs and letting her head dip forward languidly, glad to note she’s at least still wearing her own underwear. Wiping is a task in itself, the twist of her body at the simple movement causing the sharpest of pains to shoot down her side. Getting back up does the same. 

She doesn’t look at the mirror until she’s finished washing her hands. She needs a second to prepare herself, because it’s awful. Her left eye is swollen and surrounded by a deep and painful bruise. There’s a gash high up on her cheekbone, sitting under it, also bruised, and Beth knows it’s from when Ace originally hit her with his gun. The last of the damage rests on her bottom lip, an angry cut, from when he backhanded her. 

She lifts her shirt next, exposing her side, and she is shocked by the mottled black and blue bruising decorating the expanse of her ribs. It’s ugly. It’s sickening. It makes Beth want to cry to see herself in such a state. But she won’t, not yet. Because while there’s blood in her hair, there is none on her face, which means someone has cleaned her up. She wants to know who. 

She’s quiet when she opens the door leading out of the bedroom, the distant sound of the TV guiding her down the hallway and out into a living room. The place is small, smaller than her condo, an apartment she’d guess. She can see the front door on the other side of the room from where she stands and the beginnings of a counter top ahead of her where the kitchen must sit tucked around the corner on her left. But that can all wait. 

In front of her sits Demon, watching her expectantly from where he’s been waiting on the couch. Beth’s happy to see him, she can’t convey to him how happy she is right now because it hurts to smile, but his face is honestly such a welcomed sight. 

Demon gets up before she can say anything, gives her a reluctant sort of grin before he’s crossing the room, stopping to nod at someone out of view in the kitchen before heading for the door. Beth just watches silently as he leaves. She just knows. 

She holds onto her side as she edges towards the kitchen, her breath coming out in heavy, pain-filled gasps. But she goes quiet when she rounds the corner. 

Because there he is, in the flesh, leaning back against the sink with a cup of tea in hand. She’s never seen something more beautiful. She’s in awe. 

“Elizabeth.” 

Through bleeding lips, she says his name. 

“Rio.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Like I know. Even I think I'm annoying to end it there, but it felt like the best time considering the next chapter will be all Brio focused. Like what plot? Hector who? It may take a couple of weeks though. I'm not a fast writer. Some of you kill it and I don't know how.
> 
> \- Also, Annie mentioned Beth plays the piano. Can someone please write a piano fic where Rio somehow comes across her all alone just playing some angsty tune. And then you know, piano sex incurs. Or whatever. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I lied to you. Twice. The first lie was that this was going to be a two part story. Nope. As it turns out I have terrible self control and like to be annoyingly detailed. Don't worry, there's a plan. I know exactly where it's heading, where it ends. I've just severely misjudged how long it's going to take to get there from way back when I started this 'oneshot'. Which brings me to my second lie about this being a Brio central chapter. There's Brio in it of course. But we're still in the early stages. Turns out I am very committed to the plot. And love me some angst. So there. My apologies if this chapter isn't too exciting. I shall endeavor to be more realistic when it comes to my promises in the future. I was going to be super profesh and edit the shit out of this, but then I drank a few bourbon and cokes, and the chapter was finished and I got impatient. So keep that in mind when you find all the mistakes.

The shock should be overwhelming. So should the fear. But she finds it’s the relief that hits her the hardest. Not because it’s amending the guilt or making her feel any better about what she has done. She’s too far gone for that and if anything, it’s just expanding that shame tenfold seeing him for the first time since pulling the trigger. No, her relief comes from a much purer, simpler place. She is just glad to see he’s okay. 

She doesn’t know what to say to him. How does one even begin an attempt at civility after shooting someone three times in the chest? It just doesn’t seem possible. And of course, in true Rio fashion, he isn’t doing her any favors, only watches her quietly, waiting. 

This man is probably going to kill her, Beth knows that. You don’t fail to kill the king and walk away unscathed. Yet all she can think about is how good it feels to be under his scrutiny again. She missed his eyes on her, carving her out from the outside in. It’s a welcomed challenge. Beth tries to do the same, holding his gaze, but she doubts she’s ever had quite the same effect on him. 

He looks perfect. Put together in his usual black jeans and button-up shirt, face all sharp angles, slight scruff lining his jaw, hair that close buzzcut. He looks the same. If it weren’t for the scars Beth is sure now mar the tanned skin beneath, she’d almost think none of that night had ever happened. Beth’s eyes don’t linger near his chest. 

“So. Not dead then,” Beth deadpans. 

It’s not what she wants to say but it’s what comes out. 

Rio raises an amused eyebrow at her. “Not dead then.” 

Beth eyes his expression for a moment, doing her best to read him before she takes a chance. 

“It suits you,” she quips. 

She’s playing with fire, she knows that, testing the waters to see where she stands with him in this moment. It’s worth it when he lets out a chuckle, an actual chuckle. 

“Can’t say the same about you.” His eyes scan her form up and down, lingering on the bruises and where she still holds a hand to her ribs. 

“You know me,” Beth drawls. “Always pissing someone off.” 

Rio grins and Beth tries to smile back at him, but it pulls enough at her busted lip that she’s wincing. She brings her free hand up to her mouth and touches the cut gingerly, pulling away to find blood on her fingertips. 

“Maybe a little more than usual,” she adds, trying to keep that light, jovial tone about her, despite how she’s struggling with the pain. 

She thinks he can tell. He doesn’t smile this time, just tilts his head to the side as he continues to observe her quietly. 

“Was it you who got me out of there?” 

She doesn’t need to ask. She already knows the answer. She just wants the confirmation. She doesn’t remember much, but she does remember the fingers tracing her face. 

Rio nods. 

Beth doesn’t know what to say to that. How do you thank someone you tried to kill for saving you from being tortured to death? She has to avert her eyes, the tension between them becoming too much. She focuses instead on her fingers as they fiddle with the loose fabric of the t-shirt she’s wearing. 

“Was it you who undressed me too?” she asks, cheeks flooding red with embarrassment. 

Despite the pain, everything else feels normal and as it should. But she doesn’t know how long she was alone with Ace for while unconscious, and she just really needs to know that this was Rio. 

“Would you have preferred I’d let Demon do it?” There’s a teasing note to his voice, but she can tell by the way his jaw clenches that he knows what she’s really asking. 

“I don’t know, we are pretty close now,” she jokes back, letting out a strained laugh. “Practically BFFs.” 

She thinks she might honestly prefer if it were Demon. At least she’d know he would be indifferent to whatever he was seeing. She doesn’t like the idea of Rio being the one to see her in such a vulnerable state. It feels uncomfortably intimate. 

Rio snickers at her words before giving her a lazy shrug. “You were covered in blood. And your breathing was off. Had to check the extent of the damage, make sure nothing was broken.” 

Which means he’s seen it. He’s seen the bruises Ace left all over her. She thinks back to the image that had greeted her in the mirror of the bathroom earlier. She can’t help but picture Rio hovering over her unconscious body, hands tracing the grotesque black and blue of her ribs. Again, it makes her uncomfortable. 

Her hand subconsciously tightens at her side, and it reminds her of the way Ace had done the same, squeezing so he could enjoy the pained sounds that she couldn’t swallow down. He was upset about his brother Ash of course; his anger definitely spurring on his enthusiasm. But Beth could just tell that wasn’t all there was to it; he got off on hurting her. 

“Ace?” she asks him quietly. 

“Dead.” 

Beth nods, feeling oddly numb to the news, and the gravity of the situation finally hits her for real this time. She finds herself able to focus. They aren’t a couple of old friends chatting and catching up after not having seen each other for a while. She tried to kill him. There’ll be consequences. She’s in danger. 

“What about me?” 

“What about you?” 

He’s still relaxed, curious. Beth’s surprised. She would have thought he’d have guessed where all this had been heading, would have thought he’d have led the way if she refused to bring it up herself. 

“I shot you. Three times. Why aren’t I dead now too?” 

It’s like watching the flicking of a switch and suddenly he’s in motion, slamming his tea down, rounding the counter to stand in front of her, towering over her with his full height. 

“What? You think it slipped my mind?” he sneers at her sarcastically. “I didn’t forget. You’re on borrowed time darlin’, that’s for sure. But I need you sitting tight for now. I still got one last use for you.” 

There’s fire in his eyes. She thinks he’d be happy if it consumed her. She trembles. 

“You want to keep me here?” Beth glances around the apartment warily. She doesn’t even know where here is. 

“Considering I found you bound to a chair, beaten half bloody, I thought you’d be more open to a change in accommodation.” 

He’s mocking her. She knows it. She hadn’t forgotten how cold and cruel he could be when he wanted. But she did forget just how deeply it could affect her. 

“How long?” she asks. 

“As long as it takes,” he spits back. 

His contempt for her is written all over his face. He hates her. He wasn’t following her around all these months like some shadowy guardian angel. He needs her for something. He’s sticking to a plan. She needs to remember that. 

He’s standing too close to her and she can smell him again. She likes it and that’s a problem. She needs to put some distance between them. She needs to remain focused. 

Shifting unsteadily on her feet, she slowly makes her way over to one of the stools at the kitchen island, struggling to slide over and sit herself down on it. She’s out of breath from the effort, her heavy pants only causing her dry throat to catch. She finds herself in agony as she begins to cough. All she can taste is blood. 

Rio studies her movements carefully, eventually returning to the other side of the counter, letting it act as a barrier between them once again. But not before sliding his tea over and pushing it in front of her. 

Beth grabs at it desperately. It’s no longer hot but it’s still warm, and she has to take a few sips before the coughing dies down and she can breathe again. 

“Thanks,” she murmurs, almost inaudibly. 

She isn’t really sure how polite she needs to be considering Rio’s essentially just promised to murder her sometime in the near future, but her mother raised her to be well-mannered and she may as well die that way. 

Rio just stares at her, the anger slowly receding. She must look pathetic. 

Beth takes as deep a breath as she can manage and rests her elbows on the countertop. She is exhausted. She knows she’s only just woken from what is probably the longest, uninterrupted sleep she’s had in a long time, but physically her body just feels so weak and battered. She wonders if it’s still the same day. All the blinds were drawn in the bedroom so she was unable to tell. 

“Does Turner know you’re alive?” Beth asks, breaking the silence that had settled over them. 

“Who do you think called the ambulance?” Rio asks her blankly. 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he-“ 

“He knows.” 

So it is true. Turner’s been lying to her. It doesn’t necessarily mean Demon was right and that he was also lying about their deal, but it certainly doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence. And also, who is she kidding? Demon? There is no way that information didn’t come from Rio. 

“So he knows you’re alive and he’s what? Just happy letting you walk around free like nothing happened?” 

Typical. Rio’s an accomplished criminal who tried to have Beth kill him, yet Turner still treats him with more respect than Beth. She still can’t figure out why he hates her so much. 

“Nah, he’s onto me,” Rio says. “Got me under lock and key at the moment with a whole house arrest thing going on.” 

Beth looks at him confused. 

“But you’re here,” she says looking around them. “Don’t they like track your whereabouts when you’re under house arrest? Make you wear an ankle monitor? Wait, this isn’t where you’re staying, is it?” 

There is no way she is staying in this tiny, old apartment with him. It’s just not happening. She would rather kill herself now and just get the whole thing over and done with than endure that slow torture. 

“No. Turner’s gone off book. He’s super paranoid that Hector’s got someone on the inside. Which he don’t. I do. But it means I don’t have to accessorize. Just got a bunch of outside hires watching me.” 

“Like guards? Where are they then?” 

Rio shrugs. “Don’t know.” 

Beth rolls her eyes. “Elaborate.” 

Rio smirks at her and she knows he’s being purposely vague just to annoy her. 

“Independents ain’t got no loyalty, but they do have wallets,” he tells her. 

Beth wants to roll her eyes again. Of course he’s got the security team Turner hired to watch him on his payroll. He’s always got an answer for everything. 

“So why house arrest then?” Beth asks, because she might as well while Rio’s willingly answering. “Why not just arrest you for real?” 

“He needs me for something.” He leans forward and rests his forearms on the countertop, hand coming up to support his chin. She’s dreamed about him sitting across from her like this. 

“Does that something have anything to do with Hector?” 

Rio smiles at her again, sometimes he likes it when she guesses right. 

Beth lets out an amused noise. “I can’t believe he has us both on the hook.” 

It feels strange to think that the whole time she was talking to Turner, thinking Rio was dead, that he was just going back and forth between the two of them, getting what information he could on Hector. 

“What do you need from me now then?” Beth sighs. “Hector’s worked out I’m the snitch. Which means I’m useless to Turner. I don’t know what else I can do for you.” 

“Yeah,” Rio drawls. “That’s enough questions. You need to stop thinking so much ma. This ain’t about you no more.” 

Beth can’t help but narrow her eyes at him. They both know it’s never been about her. 

“I’ve got to go now anyhow. Got a house I need to get back to. Can’t have our friend Jim thinking we’ve both struck out. But I’ll be seeing you.” 

Rio pushes himself up and away from the counter and Beth can’t help the way her heart clenches in her chest at the thought of him leaving her already. 

“You’re leaving? But I...” Beth doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t know how to. 

Rio isn’t waiting for her to finish anyway, heading past her and towards the front door. 

Beth struggles to swivel in her seat, calling after him. “Wait! What am I supposed to do?” 

Rio pauses mid-stride, looking back at her with a grin. “Exactly what I said, you sit tight.” 

Beth scowls at him. They both know she isn’t particularly good at just waiting around doing nothing. She’s far too impatient for that. Especially right now when what she’s waiting for is either Rio successfully executing his takeover and then deciding to kill her, or Hector successfully tracking her down and then deciding to torture and kill her. Both not great options. 

She’ll blame it on the head injury, but it only now occurs to her that if Hector truly does believe that she is the snitch and is currently trying to find her, there is a very real possibility that he’ll go after her family, that he won’t hesitate to use her children to draw her out into the open like he’d once promised. The panic sets in immediately. 

“Wait! Rio!” she yells, and she’s sliding off the stool too quickly, winding herself but pushing through it as she tries to hobble after him. “Rio, my kids! What if he goes after my kids?” 

Rio’s already got the door open and is stepping through. 

“Yeah, bit late to start thinking about that now,” he calls back to her. 

“What does that mean?” she asks. “Tell me what that means!” 

But he’s already gone, disappearing as quickly as he arrived. Demon and Mr. Cisco appear in the doorway and block her exit. 

*** 

Beth does as she’s asked and sits tight. She sits tight while thinking up a plan to get past Demon and Cisco so she can find her children and take them as far away from this city as possible. She doesn’t care what Rio says. She refuses to believe it’s too late. These are her babies. Two angry crime bosses or not, injured or not, armed gangbangers or not, she’s going to find a way to get to them and keep them safe. 

She had done her exploring of the apartment once Rio had left. There isn’t much to it. It’s got the main bedroom, another smaller one down the hall with a central bathroom between. And then the living room, which consists of a couch, small dinner area and kitchen. 

She checked the windows in the main bedroom to see if she could escape out of one of them, but it turns out they are at least three stories up in what looks to be an old apartment building. So, her only point of exit is the front door, which isn’t ideal considering its in full view of the living room where Demon and Cisco now sit. 

Beth keeps herself propped up at the counter, pretending to idly watch the TV with them, but her eyes keep levelling at Cisco’s right hip where she spotted his gun tucked into his belt earlier. If she can get her hands on it, she might be able to hold them off long enough to get out the door. Or she could at least hold one of them off long enough. 

Even if she does somehow manage to get Cisco’s gun from him, there’s not a lot she can do if Demon’s still got his. They’d just wind up in a standoff and Beth doesn’t know what their orders are. For all she knows Rio’s told them that if she causes any trouble to just shoot her. 

Beth has to wait for night to fall before an opportunity finally presents itself in the form of Demon deciding he’s going to step out and grab some food for everyone. The process of him actually making the announcement and leaving the apartment takes an agonizingly long time though. 

Beth has to try her best to look patient as she waits for Cisco and him to decide what kind of takeout they feel like, force herself to not appear too eager when they finally settle on Chinese. But it then takes another good ten minutes for her to convince Demon that she isn’t all that hungry when he insists on taking her order, and even once she’s got him convinced, he still insists on picking her up some egg rolls anyway. 

As it turns out, she did actually sleep through the night and into the next day, and Demon seems overly concerned about how little she’s had to eat in the meantime. And while he is right, and she is starving, she needs to hurry this process along so she can get to working on Cisco. Which she does the second Demon is out the door. 

Beth and Mr. Cisco have never had that much interaction, similar to how it’d been with Demon before he became her pseudo-handler while Rio was off pretending to be dead. So Cisco is relaxed around her, reclining on the couch and hardly paying her any attention as she watches him from the kitchen. 

He doesn’t know any better. It’s just like Ace said, people underestimate her, think of her as only the naïve housewife, out of place among them. Beth can play into that. 

“Cisco! Can I get you anything?” Beth calls out to him in her best mom voice. “A snack? Some tea? I’ll get you some tea,” she insists without waiting for his answer. “It’s going to be a cold night.” 

It’s not. But Cisco doesn’t seem to mind, just glances back at her and absentmindedly lets out an “okay,” before going back to watching the final reveal of some couple’s new living room renovations. 

Beth almost feels bad. This might actually be too easy. 

She puts the kettle on to boil and waits nervously as it heats up, pulling open cupboards to find the teabags Rio was using earlier. There’s one flaw in her plan that she’s painfully aware of but is trying her best not to think about. 

Beth hasn’t picked up a gun since that night she used one on Rio, her hands are already starting to shake at the idea. This could all go wrong if she hesitates. She just has to keep reminding herself why she is doing it. She just has to think of her children. 

Beth makes quick work of Cisco’s tea and forces herself to hold her hands steady as she walks it over to him. It’s hard considering it’s not just the nerves that at are causing the tremors, she is literally in so much pain she is vibrating with it. 

“Okay, here it is,” she says brightly as she approaches in front of him. 

She times it carefully. Just as Cisco reaches out to accept the cup, she lets her hand slip and pours it all over him, aiming more to his left side, and with the scolding hot liquid proving itself a worthy distraction, Beth is able to pull his gun from where it had been tucked into his belt on his right. 

Beth steps back, discarding the empty teacup on the carpet and raising the gun to him. Cisco looks up at her with a deer caught in the headlights expression. She gives him a couple of seconds to catch up. He eventually raises his open hands out in front of him. 

“You’re not going to shoot me,” he says, both of them eyeing the gun as it trembles in her hand. 

He mistakes this for weakness. He thinks she’s shaking because she’s intimidated, because she won’t be able to pull the trigger. But it’s the opposite. She’s shaking because she knows she will, because she’s done it before. 

Beth takes the safety off and watches Cisco swallow nervously. 

“Give me your keys,” Beth demands. 

Cisco eyes her warily. “No. You’re a nice lady Mrs. Boland but this is a very bad idea. Just put down the gun.” 

“Give me your keys!” Beth yells again. 

But Cisco doesn’t move, just keeps his hands out in front of him. 

He thinks he can wait her out. That if he just sits there long enough, Demon’s going to eventually walk back in and save his ass. 

“Cisco, I swear to god if you don’t give me the keys…” 

Cisco shakes his head at her. “You’re not going to pull the trigger. You know that. I know that. Come on, give me back the gun and I’ll pretend like this never happened.” 

Beth laughs at him. Her own twisted version of Rio’s callous one. The one he uses when he’s about to say something cruel. 

“What I know Cisco, is that I am not a nice lady. I know that I’m the one who shot Rio in the chest not once, but three times. I know I invited him into my bed not long before I decided to do it. Do you really think that if I was able to pull the trigger on him, that it won’t be even easier for me to pull it on you?” 

She sees when the fear sinks into the worried lines of his face. 

“Give me the keys.” she says, this time less frantic. She notices her hands have gone steady. “And your phone,” she adds. 

Cisco leans back into the plush material of the couch so he can push his hands into the pockets of his jeans and pull his keys and phone out. Beth holds the gun on him as she carefully reaches out and plucks the phone from his hands, quickly shoving it into the pocket of her sweatpants, then she grabs the keys, quickly moving back and out of arms reach. 

“Where is your car parked?” 

“Out on the street. Couple houses up.” 

“Don’t move, don’t turn around,” Beth commands as she walks out of view and over to the door “What kind of car is it?” she asks as she gets working on the lock. 

There is no way she is going through all of this, just to get down there and be caught by Demon returning with their dinner, because she’s spent ten minutes stranded looking for Cisco’s car. 

“A black 1971 Chevy Impala,” Cisco stresses, sounding somewhat upset. 

“Do not follow me,” Beth says once she’s got the door open, stepping out into the hallway. “If I see you following me, I will not hesitate to shoot you.” 

“Wait!” Cisco yells out right as she’s about to close the door behind her. 

Beth reluctantly looks back into the apartment and stares at the back of Cisco’s head, he’s doing as she asked, he still isn’t turning around. Somewhere deep down she feels really bad about spilling hot tea all over him. 

“What?” 

“Just… try not to scratch it. Please?” 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

*** 

It will take Beth a nerve-wracking five minutes to make it downstairs and out of the building, walking through faded, peeling pink hallways that smell of bleach and cigarettes with Cisco’s gun tucked into the waistband of her sweats and hidden under her t-shirt. 

She briefly debates taking the stairs down when she reaches the main foyer, she knows she’s got a better chance of avoiding Demon that way, but she ultimately decides on the elevator. She doesn’t think she’d make the journey down on foot. The pain in her side is sharp and intense, and it steals her breath every few seconds. If she pushes herself too hard, she fears she may just pass out. 

She makes up for her choice by keeping her hand on Cisco’s gun. She thinks maybe if Demon’s hands are preoccupied carrying their food, she’ll be able to get the jump on him and be quicker on the draw. Though she worries for nothing, the lobby is empty when the doors open, and Beth relaxes just that little bit before she’s edging towards the main entrance and back out into the world. 

The apartment building sits on a street corner, surrounded by a bunch of equally rundown houses lining the dimly lit block. She doesn’t recognize the street signs, doesn’t know this neighborhood, but she tries to blend in and look as inconspicuous as possible while scanning the cars for Cisco’s Impala. An impossible task considering she’s covered in some nasty looking bruises and without any shoes. Her white socks with their bright red rose print aren’t exactly discreet. She sticks to the shadows. 

Cisco’s car turns out to be an easy find and right where he had said it was, a couple houses up and the nicest looking one of the lot. The walk over to it feels like it takes forever. She knows once she’s safely inside she’ll be home free, and it adds to that fear of getting caught at the last minute. So close yet so far. 

But she makes it, sliding on in to plush leather seats. Beth now understands why Cisco asked her not to scratch it. The car is nice and the engine is powerful vibrating underneath the pristine hood. She actually jumps when she starts it up it’s so loud. 

Once she’s moving, it takes her a minute to work out where she is. She isn’t familiar with this part of town and it isn’t until she finds herself driving along a main street, that she is able to gather her bearings and navigate her way back home from there. 

She has to be strategic when she gets there, she knows someone may be watching her house. So when she’s close enough, she decides to park a street over and sneak through her neighbor’s yard. There’s a known weakness in their shared back fence that she takes advantage of, painfully squeezing between the paneling and into her own. 

The place is dark but according to Cisco’s phone it’s only six o’clock. They should be eating dinner right now, or at least doing their homework or watching TV. Beth’s panic starts to steadily increase as she approaches the too quiet house. 

She bypasses the brick steps, her intention to uncover the spare key from where it’s hidden in one of the pot plants in the garden, but she soon notices she needn’t bother. The backdoor has been kicked in, the wooden framed cracked and hanging awkwardly on its hinges. 

Beth’s eyes are already filling with tears as she quietly pushes it open. She moves slowly from room to room, using Cisco’s phone to light her way, finding the place pulled apart, trashed and so terrifyingly empty. They’ve already been here. They’ve already got to them. 

Tears slip from Beth’s eyes as she sneaks back through her yard and into the neighbors, climbing back into Cisco’s Impala and staring out the windshield blankly. She cannot go into a panic. She needs to figure out her next move. She needs to find her children. They’ve probably even got Dean too, and as much as things have been strained between them, she doesn’t want anything to happen to him either. And what about Ruby and Annie? What if he decides to go after them too? 

She thinks about calling Turner and telling him everything. Even if all of this ends up with her going to prison for colluding with known criminals and lying to a federal agent, at least there’ll be a chance that the FBI will be able to find her family in time. 

But no, she knows that’s not her best option. She knows that if anyone is going to be able to find her kids and get them back to her safe and unharmed, it’s Rio. 

Beth pulls Cisco’s phone from her pocket and stares at it. It’s passcode protected, she already discovered that on the way over when she thought about calling Dean and the girls. She had given up quickly considering she was driving at the time but she knows Cisco must have Rio’s number stored in there somewhere. 

She starts with the obvious ones; 1234? 1111? 0000? Nothing. 

Beth tries to guess when he’s born, tries about four varying years before giving up on that line of thinking. What does she know about him? Other than the fact he likes home renovation shows. He used to like tea? Though probably not anymore. He’s a big fan of sweet and sour pork based on how much of it he ordered. He loves his car… 

Beth thinks back. What had he said? A black 1971 Chevy Impala. She types the year in and watches as the home screen appears. 

Well fuck. 

Beth’s fingers are immediately fluttering over the screen, finding his call log and sifting through it. Demon, Bullet, Hector, some girl named Rosa, a few blocked numbers, his mom, a bunch of unsaved digits. But no Rio. 

She lets out a frustrated sigh and instead clicks into his messages, scrolling through and only finding more of the same. Rio’s letting everyone think he is dead right now. He’s probably keeping any communication that could be tracked to a minimum. But she knows Demon had his number, watched him punch it in. 

She finds Demon’s name again, ignores the group chat between Cisco, Bullet and him that any other day she would be super amused to learn more about, and clicks onto their one-on-one conversation thread. 

She scans through the messages quickly, the ’to the point’ simplicity of them all making it easier. They’re mostly just times and addresses, Beth recognizing a few as the apartment building, Hector’s warehouse and some of the meet-ups they’ve been to. 

There are references laced throughout to someone using only the letter R, which she guesses to be Rio, and even a BB which she figures, based on the context, must stand for Beth Boland. Like for example one that took place some hours after Ace attacked her in the warehouse: 

Demon: R with BB at SH. Would avoid rn. 

Cisco: She bad? 

Demon: Beat up but ok 

Cisco: He’s gonna be pissed 

She guesses SH means safehouse? They text like that a lot, using abbreviations and initials to represent what they mean. It either makes deciphering their texts really hard or relatively straight forward. 

She doesn’t even know how far back she goes; she just keeps scrolling through their conversations, hoping Demon at some point will mention Rio’s number. They’re pretty cagey whenever Rio comes up though, keeping things vague and nondescript. 

She may have had better luck if it were Demon’s phone she had stolen. By the looks of his texts he always seems to know more than Cisco, his orders coming straight from Rio himself. She’s almost about give up on the whole thing when a particularly odd text catches her eye. 

In between their work-related messages to each other, every now and then, they’d mention something personal, just between the two of them. Whether it’d be a hot chick one was seeing (and really if Cisco likes this Rosa as much as he says he does then he shouldn’t be discussing the size of her ass with Demon), where to get the best enchiladas (Demon’s mom’s house apparently and he will fight you about it), or who would win in a battle to the death between a tiger and a shark (they decide on shark but Beth’s sees a lot of flaws in their logic considering they’ve put the tiger in water and if the shark were on land it’d easily be the other way around). So normal stuff. Sort of. 

Except one from Demon that reads: Finally found a nice spot for birdwatching. 

It confuses her. She didn’t really picture Demon to have any hobbies other than looking mean and threatening her with guns. She especially would have never pegged him as an avid birdwatcher. What stands out to her even more though, is that he’s included an address under it. And rather than a forest or a park, it’s residential. 

At first, she thinks maybe he’s being old-fashioned and using the word bird meaning woman. Like maybe he’s found a nice girl that he’s into. But then why would he be giving her address to Cisco? She doubts they’re that into sharing. 

But then another incarnation of a bird enters her mind. An inked one, gracing the neck of one of the most dangerous men she’s ever met. Could that mean what she thinks it means? Did Demon send this text through when Rio was put under house arrest? Is this where Rio is staying? Is Rio the fucking bird? 

Beth opens the Maps app on Cisco’s phone and punches the address in, turning the car on and revving the engine, already jittery with nerves as she peels away from the curb. 

Rio is not going to be happy to see her, that’s if she’s even right about this and this is where he’s being kept. For all she knows she is about to drive all this way to find a whole bunch of birds that are good for watching, or however that works. But she doesn’t know what else to do. 

He probably already knows she’s missing. Demon must have arrived back at the apartment by now, and if not, she doubts Cisco would have sat idly for long. He was probably at the window watching her as she stole his car. 

It takes relatively the same amount of time to arrive at Demon’s birdwatching address as it did to get from the apartment building to her house. She recognizes enough of the turns along the way to surmise that they mustn’t be located too far away from one another. 

She parks up the street, about six houses up from her target. She doesn’t think twice about ditching the gun in the glovebox. She had kept it tucked into her pants when she was searching her own house, just in case she ran into anybody that wasn’t her family, but she knows if she has any chance of convincing Rio to help her find her children, she cannot have a gun in her hand. 

Also, just the idea of having a gun on her in his presence makes her want to be physically sick, and she doesn’t think her ribs could take that kind of onslaught right now. 

She uses the same approach she took when sneaking into her own house, and starts off by crossing into the yard of the next-door neighbors. The place she’s after is a simple brick house, plain grass for a front garden, and a single side-gate on the left which she decides is her best point of entry. 

It’s dark enough that she feels safe to slip down the side of the house and unlatch the gate without being spotted from any of the windows. But she ducks low just in case anyway and makes it uninterrupted into the backyard. 

Again, it’s plain and simple. An old rickety clothes line in the center of the yard surrounded by grass, two wobbly metal chairs sitting around an unreasonably small matching metal table, and the sliding door to get inside to the right of them. 

Beth doesn’t really have any better plan than to just try and break in and hope that she runs into Rio before she runs into anyone else. But she really should have. The second her hand is gripping the handle and trying to pull at the sliding door, it’s thrown open and a man she does not recognize is holding a gun on her, and then another is rounding the corner of the house, running up behind her and jamming his own into her back. 

Through the shock of it all, all Beth can think is he better keep that gun in the center of her spine. If he drags his hand anymore to the left, he’s going to be pressing on the edges of her blossoming bruises and she is going to violently collapse to the floor and curl in on herself. 

“Who are you?” one is yelling at her. 

“Who sent you?” says the other. 

They’re dressed almost identically in black polos and black military style cargo pants, the kind with a lot of pockets, and Beth is almost asking them who they are when someone else joins the confrontation. 

Rio stares at her blankly for a second before he’s readjusting the phone at his ear. 

“Nevermind. I found her,” he says gruffly. “...just get here. You got 20 minutes until changeover.” 

Everyone just goes quiet for a few seconds as he tucks his phone back into his jeans and Beth remains still as goon number one continues to wave his gun in her face and goon number two presses his that little bit harder into her back. 

“Could you please ask them to lower their guns?” Beth grits out. 

She’s tired, she’s in pain and her kids are missing. She doesn’t have time for this. 

Rio purses his lips and stares at her. His jaw is set in a hard line and he looks unbelievably tense, hasn’t even tried to move to get in between his man and her yet. Beth has never been able to read him properly, but if she were forced to guess, right now she’d say he looks worried, maybe even a little disappointed. His next words explain it. 

“Cisco says you took his gun.” 

The weight of those words sink in like a lead balloon. Beth can’t tell if she’s going to laugh or cry, but she clamps down on whatever ugly, hysterical noise is trying to escape the back of her throat. Rio thinks she’s come here to hurt him. A valid assumption. A heartbreaking one. Because no, she wouldn’t. She’d never. Not again. 

“I didn’t... I wasn’t... I left it in the car,” Beth settles with. 

Rio doesn’t say anything in return, keeps watching her as he tries to figure out whether or not she is telling him the truth. 

That’s when goon number two takes the opportunity to remove the gun from her back. “I’ve got this,” he announces. 

And before she can register his words and realize what it is he is referring to, hands are hitting either side of her waist, starting to pat her down. Beth’s collapse is immediate. 

He yells something at her, thinks she hears the word cooperate, but Beth no longer cares. She can’t breathe. Everything in her just seizes as the pain takes hold. There’s no hesitation on his part though, and he just keeps going, moving with her, hands in her pockets, pulling out Cisco’s keys and phone as she remains paralyzed on the pavement. 

She wants to tell him to stop but she can’t get any words out. Though it doesn’t really matter because Rio can. 

“Back the fuck off!” He’s yelling. “Don’t touch her!” 

He’s finally stepping outside and between them, shoving past goon number one to haul goon number two up by his collar, snatching Cisco’s things from his hands and pushing him back towards the house. 

“Get back inside,” he demands, crouching down in front of her, eyes trying to find hers. “Elizabeth, look at me.” 

“But sir-” 

“What did I just say?” Rio shouts back at him, tone full of ice. “Get the fuck back inside!” 

Beth doesn’t hear the rest of it, doesn’t care if they leave or not, it doesn’t matter. She can’t breathe. The air won’t come. Every time she tries to take a breath in the pain sharpens unbearably and her lungs are seizing. Tears fall freely from her eyes and down her cheeks, decorating the pavement. She’s half on her side, hands splayed out in front of her, hunched over with her chin only inches from where it nearly hit the ground beneath her. 

“Elizabeth breathe,” Rio is saying to her, now on hands and knees so he can see her face through the curtain of her hair. “Come on, you can do it. Breathe.” 

Beth shakes her head, eyes wide and desperate. She can’t. She’s trying. 

“Yes, you can,” Rio says. “Relax mami. Do it. Breathe for me.” 

She keeps her eyes on him as quick and jagged breaths eventually start evening out into steady slow ones, and he stays like that with her until she feels her whole diaphragm relaxing and the air finally reaching her easily. It still hurts beyond reason, but it’s bearable once again. 

Rio just lets her breath for a moment, doesn’t move to touch her or get her up. They just stay like that on the ground together, watching each other. 

She can’t help but be reminded of how he struggled to breathe after she shot him. The amount of blood he coughed up. How it must have felt like he was drowning. How she didn’t get down on her hands and knees to help him. 

The memory gets her moving, prompting her to push up from her hands and slowly shift to her knees so she can stand. Rio doesn’t try and help her, just slowly gets up with her, close enough that if she were to stumble, he could easily reach out and catch her. 

Once she’s upright Rio gestures towards the door with his head. “Guess you better come in.” 

He falls in beside her, barely touching her as a hand moves to her lower back to guide her up the step and inside the house. He walks her through a living room where his two security guards now sit watching her with irritation, before turning into a hallway and down to a bedroom. Beth doesn’t ask if this is where he sleeps, just allows him to bring her over to the bed so she can sit down on its edge. 

She still hasn’t totally got her breath back and she hunches over where she sits. Rio just crouches down in front of her again, letting out a frustrated sigh as he looks her over. 

“What are you doing here Elizabeth?” Rio asks. His voice is quiet but she can tell he is angry. 

“I had to come,” Beth says, her voice coming out like a whimper. 

“No, you only had one thing you needed to do, and that was sit tight,” Rio’s jaw clenches and she knows he is doing his best to keep his anger in check. “I leave you alone for a few hours and you’re already pulling shit?” 

Beth can’t help it; she starts to cry. 

“I went to the house Rio. They’re gone. Hector’s taken my kids. He’s got them somewhere and they must be so scared and I have to get them back. I know what you said and if you want to kill me now and get it over with, that’s fine. But first, could you please… please just help me get them back?” 

The realization dawns on Rio, he ducks his head for a second before looking back up at her. “That’s why you’re here?” 

“Please Rio? I'll do anything you want. Anything,” Beth pleads through the tears 

She doesn’t care that she’s begging. She doesn’t care if he brings this up later to tease her or to collect on that promise. She doesn’t care if there is no later. She just wants her kids safe. 

Rio runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. “They’re fine. They’re at Disney World with Dean and Bullet right now.” 

Beth pauses in her tears. “What?” 

Rio nods. “It’s true. They’re in Florida. And last I heard they’re all having a pretty good time, even Bullet.” 

Beth stares at him blankly. “I don’t understand.” 

“Nor do I. But apparently he’s a Disney fan and other than the fact Dean keeps asking him questions about the mafia like this is all just the same thing, they’re all good.” 

“Be serious. Are you being serious?” Beth wipes at her tearstained cheeks. “But how? The house, it was completely trashed and Hector said...” 

Rio nods. “That probably was Hector, trying to figure out where you’ve disappeared to. But your family was long gone by then.” 

Beth’s family? Dean and the kids aren’t Beth’s only family. 

“What about Annie and Ruby?” Beth asks suddenly, a new wave of terror hitting her. “What if he goes after them instead? I have to warn them.” 

Beth is straightening and pushing off the bed like she’s going to try and get up. To do what? She doesn’t know. They got Cisco’s phone and keys off her pretty quickly. But she’s worried she’s spent all this time focused on the wrong loved ones. 

Rio’s hands come out and grab hold of her arms, stopping her. 

“Stop, or you’ll hurt yourself again.” Rio waits until she stops moving before sliding his hands down her arms and resting them either side of her thighs on the bed. “They already know. Annie’s staying with Ruby and that cop husband of hers till this all blows over.” 

“You spoke to them?” Beth asks. 

“Nah, Demon did.” 

“So, they’re okay?” 

“Last I heard,” Rio nods. 

Beth finally feels it, finally feels the last remaining panic draining from her completely. Everyone is okay. Everyone is safe. Everything is going to be just fine. Maybe not for her but what does that matter? Hadn’t she known it would all end something like this eventually? Hector or Rio? What’s the difference? Her family is the only thing that matters now and Rio’s taking care of them. Which doesn’t make any sense. Not after what she did to him. 

“Why did you do all that?” she asks. She can’t help it. “I thought you’d have liked the idea of seeing me suffer.” 

“Tempting,” Rio jokes, before giving her a pointed stare. “But I didn’t do it for you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t believe in unnecessary carnage. And I especially don’t believe in hurting kids.” 

And oh yeah, that’s the difference. That’s what makes Rio a different kind of king to Hector, a different kind of bad guy. He’s the kind that she likes. 

“As for Annie and Ruby…” he continues. “I ain’t got no beef with them. They’re not the ones who shot me. So I’m just keeping ‘em in the loop. Same as I’d done for you before.” 

Before? Before everything went to shit? Before she became someone she despises? That she’s ashamed of? 

“Thank you,” she says eventually. 

Rio shakes his head at her, looks like he’s about to argue, reiterate the fact that this was not about her. But Beth cuts in before he can. 

“I don’t care why you did it. You still did it. So… thank you.” 

Rio looks uncomfortable, his eyes avoiding her sincere gaze and his hands tightening in the fabric of the comforter either side of her, but he’s nodding. 

“Though I do wish you had have just told me all of this when I asked you,” Beth says, her way of breaking the tension for him. “Would have saved me assaulting Cisco with a cup of tea and breaking into your house. Again.” 

It does the trick, Rio visibly relaxing in front of her, looking back up at her with an amused smirk. 

“I did hear something about that. You’re hardcore ma. A cup of tea?” Rio lets out a low whistle. “How’d you find me anyway?” 

Beth smiles back at him. 

“Heard this was a good spot for birdwatching.” 

She’s not sure if Rio knows what that means, and maybe later she’ll explain it to him. But for now, it's kind of nice just running her eyes over him, close-up like this with an open expression, no longer angry or threatening. Her eyes level with the bird on his neck and she remembers the time she once pressed a kiss at the edge of its wing. 

She snaps out of it when goon number one comes rushing through the doorway. “Shit, sir. Sorry, we’ve got a problem!” 

Rio stands up immediately to meet him, Beth guessing he doesn’t appreciate having someone come up behind him like that without warning. 

“Turner’s just pulled up. He’s heading up the driveway now. What do you want us to do sir? He’s going to want to know why she’s here!” 

The guy looks stressed and Beth gets it. He is currently accepting money from a known criminal and lying to a federal agent. Beth’s been there. 

“Shit,” Rio echoes, looking down, brow furrowed, deciding on a plan. “Do nothing. Say nothing. Just try and buy me some time.” 

Goon number one glances back at Beth warily, like her presence alone is just so offensive to him, and once again Beth gets it. She really shouldn’t have come here. 

Rio practically pushes the guy out of the room and shuts the door behind him, before rushing back over to Beth. 

“Come on, you need to get up,” he urges, one hand coming to the center of her back and the other holding onto her forearm. “He can’t find you here.” 

Beth can already hear the sound of the front door opening, voices echoing somewhere in the house. She’s not going to make it back outside in time, and Rio seems to know it too, gently pulling her up and over to the ensuite bathroom. 

“Shit Rio,” Beth curses, trying to move too quickly, her own hands coming up to grab at his shirt. 

“I know, I know,” he’s repeating, guiding her in and closing the door behind him, letting her lean back heavily against the sink as he heads for the shower. “But he can’t see us together. He sees us together and he’s going to know we’ve been playing him. And then we’re both screwed.” 

He turns the water on, hard, letting the sound of the spray hitting the bathtub beneath fill the room as he fishes his phone back out of the pocket of his jeans. He’s calling someone. 

“Yeah Demon, it’s me. Change of plans. Turner’s here. Don’t make any moves until you hear from me.” 

A knock sounds from the outside of the door. 

“Yeah, just give me a sec,” Rio’s yelling. 

He pulls Cisco’s phone and car keys from his pocket and stuffs everything in his hands in the toilet roll basket beside the toilet, making sure it’s all buried and out of sight. Beth just watches him, unsure of what she’s supposed to do. 

Another knock sounds. “Come on Rio, get out here!” comes Turner’s voice. 

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Rio yells again before turning to her. He gives her some kind of look that she doesn’t understand and then his hands are at his jeans and he begins stripping. 

Beth quickly turns around, facing the sink, making sure to keep her head down so she can’t see him in the reflection of the mirror. But then she’s staring at her hands gripping white porcelain and she can sense him somewhere behind her just like the last time, so instead she’s tilting her head back and watching the ceiling. 

She still doesn’t look at him when he grabs onto her arm and pulls her over to the shower, just waits when she feels him pause so he can dunk his head under the spray before turning the water off, lets him help her over the lip of the tub once he’s finished. 

He’s not completely naked, he’s still got his underwear on, she can see the outline of it breaking up all that exposed tanned skin at the edges of her periphery. But she still isn’t going to look. Because if she were to glance down, she would see all the damage she left on his skin. 

Maybe she should though. Maybe she should just get it over and done with while she has the chance. It might make it all feel more real. It might make her remember to be scared of him. But instead she just untangles herself from him, moving out of his reach and under the showerhead where stray droplets still fall, dampening her skin and clothes. 

“Stay here,” he whispers. “Don’t move until I come back.” 

She nods, eyes firmly fixed on the wall next to her, boring into little squares of white tile. 

He disappears completely when he pulls across the white shower curtain, effectively hiding her from view. She hears Turner’s voice coming from behind the door again. 

“Rio! Open this door right now!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Jesus,” Rio exclaims as the sound of the door being pulled open echoes against the tiles. Beth holds her breath. “Can’t a man take a shower in peace?” 

“Not when you’re on the clock. This isn’t a vacation.” 

“No shit, if this were a vacation I wouldn’t have such crappy accommodation. The water pressure in that shower is pathetic.” 

“I’ll pass that along to my superiors,” Turner retorts sarcastically. “Now put some pants on. I got something I need to talk to you about.” 

Beth hears the door close after that. The bathroom falls silent and Beth finally releases a breath. 

As another wave of adrenaline wears off for hopefully the last time today, Beth’s left once again with the pain and the exhaustion. She slides down the wall and curls up in the bottom of the bathtub, feels the remaining water seeping into her clothes. She doesn’t care. She just can’t stand any longer. Turning her head, she presses her throbbing face against the cool tiles, welcomes the cold, then she closes her eyes. 

*** 

Beth does not know how long she lies there for. An hour maybe? Possibly longer. She doesn’t sleep so much as she dozes, fading in and out but always being aware of her cold surroundings. She’s shivering by the time Rio comes back for her. Beth’s just relieved to see he’s fully dressed. 

He looks at her oddly when he pulls the curtain back and discovers her at the bottom of the tub, Beth doesn’t read into it, just pushes herself up and holds onto either side of her ribs in an attempt to stop the shaking. But she doesn’t move to get out. Not just yet. 

“Well?” she asks. “Did we get away with it?” 

“Yeah,” Rio nods. “We did.” 

It’s strange to hear the word ‘we’ coming from his mouth. She never really thought they would be a ‘we’ ever again. But here they are, working together. Even if it is in a relatively small capacity. 

“What’d he want?” 

Rio was caught off guard when he realized Turner was here. So obviously he doesn’t show up so unexpectedly that often, especially considering Rio has been coming and going as he pleases for some time now. Whatever it was must have been important. 

“He wanted you.” Rio moves to sit down on the edge of the tub, elbows coming to rest on his knees, hands clasping together as he looks back at her. “Wanted to know if I’d heard anything about you going missing.” 

“What’d you tell him?” 

Rio looks her over, the entire length of her. “Told him the truth. Hector’s after you.” 

Beth huffs out a laugh. “And let me guess, he was terribly concerned about the state of my wellbeing?” 

“He was actually. I think he wants to be the one to take you down.” 

Beth rolls her eyes. Everyone wants to be the one to take her down. She entertains the idea that perhaps she should be flattered. But then thinks more about what he’s just said and realizes it doesn’t make sense. 

“Why is he coming to you for new information? How does that work if you’re supposedly cooped up here all day?” 

“Still got my old phone. He keeps tabs on it of course, monitors every text and call, limits my access. But he’s got me keeping in contact with certain players so I can let him know what’s going on.” 

Players? More like Demon and fucking Cisco, probably Bullet too. And they’re only ever telling him what Rio’s already told them to say. Smart as a whip and sly like a fox, Beth remembers. 

“Hence why I need the burner,” Rio finishes, gesturing over to where the toilet paper sits. 

The phones! Shit. Beth forgot about that. She could have called Annie and Ruby. They could have been on their way to storm the castle by now. They could have planned to get her out. 

She reminds herself that she is currently sporting multiple head injuries, old and new, and is probably concussed again. She really shouldn’t blame herself for forgetting. It did take her a while to piece together the fact that if Hector was looking for her then her children were in danger. That’s enough proof that she obviously isn’t exactly with it right now. 

It didn’t take Rio long though. No time at all. Sending Dean and the kids to Florida seemed to be the first thing he did when he caught wind Hector knew she was the snitch. Well, maybe not the first thing. He did manage to get her out of the warehouse before Hector could get his hands on her pretty quick. 

“Do you think maybe I could use your burner phone?” 

Rio raises an eyebrow at her. “And why would I let you do that?” 

“Just to check in with my kids. And Ruby and Annie. You know, let them know I’m not dead yet.” 

Rio chuckles. “No mama. It don’t work like that.” 

Beth sighs, looking away from him and resting her cheek against her knees. 

“Worth a shot,” she mumbles. “You know, even prisoners on death row are allowed to make phone calls.” 

Rio doesn’t say anything for a while. Beth can still feel his eyes on her though. 

“You’re going to have to stay here tonight,” he eventually says. 

“What?” She lifts her head and gives him her full attention again. “Why? Can’t I just go back to the apartment?” 

Although she anticipates a less than friendly reception, she’d rather not stay the night with Rio in the same house. It doesn’t feel like a good idea. 

“Too late now. The guards have switched shifts. Tonight’s boys aren’t as friendly.” 

“But I thought you had them paid off?” Beth says, voice dropping and only now noticing the fact Rio had shut the door behind him when he came in. 

“Some of them, not all of them,” Rio shrugs. 

And yeah. That make sense. He can’t have everyone on the hook. He isn’t completely infallible. 

She guesses this means she isn’t allowed to be seen by these new guys, has to stay hidden until another shift change the next morning. Right as she wonders whether this is to be her sleeping quarters for the night, another shiver wracks through her. She winces a little at how it jerks her aching body. 

“Stay here,” Rio tells her, getting up and leaving the room. 

Beth just waits for him. She’s going to need his help getting out of this bathtub anyway. Her limbs have gone stiff from being cramped in such a small space for too long. 

Rio comes in with a new set of sweatpants and t-shirt in hand, this time all black, which he places on what spare space is left on the tiny bathroom sink, before making his way back over to her. 

He doesn’t make her ask, which Beth appreciates, just grabs her hand, an arm wrapping around her again as he rests his hand in the center of her back to help her up. It’s quick and mostly painless, like he’s mapped her out and committed to memory exactly where that bruise begins and ends against her skin, knows what not to touch. 

Once standing, he drops his arm from her back, but keeps his hand in hers as she unsteadily steps out of the bathtub and back onto solid ground. 

Beth feels dizzy, a sudden head rush now that she’s upright, and has to close her eyes to center herself. She holds onto him without thinking. Rio only pulls his hand from hers once she opens her eyes again and is able to focus on her surroundings. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” he says, quietly excusing himself and closing the door behind him, but not before grabbing the phones and Cisco’s keys from where he had stashed them among the toilet paper rolls. 

Beth walks over to the sink and leans against it, hands finding the curved porcelain, mimicking her pose from the bar bathroom again in a way that seems to have become second nature to her. 

What is she doing? How did she get here? She knows the answer to that obviously, knows that she was just trying to protect her children. But she’s not asking in the literal sense. 

She wants to know what brought her here emotionally? To this moment? Where after everything that has happened, even after he slapped an expiry date on her, even after she tried to kill him, she still looks at Rio with warmth and gratitude? Is this just where a fucked-up year of guilt and shame and the monstrosity that is Hector Ramirez has led her? Is she just clinging to the lesser of two evils? She so wants to hate him. It’d make this so much easier. 

Beth glances up at herself in the mirror. She looks terrible. Eye still swollen and purple, a jagged cut on her cheek bone with that blood-stained, busted lip. Terrible. Beth looks away with a sigh and gets to work taking off her damp pants and t-shirt. 

It’s a slow process, everything’s a slow process at the moment, but she’s grateful for the warmth the new clothes bring once they’re on. She doesn’t know who the now discarded and wet clothes she had been wearing all day belonged to, if they were his, he obviously hadn’t worn them before. They didn’t smell like him. Not like these new ones do. His scent is clinging to the fabric of her t-shirt and wrapping around her. 

When Beth opens the bathroom door, she’s careful not to step into the bedroom just yet, seeking out Rio to make sure the coast is clear for her. Rio’s not looking at her though, he’s currently pushing the bed, which had been pressed up against the wall furthest from the door, away from the wall to leave a sliver of room beside it. He’s then gathering spare blankets from off the bed and spreading them out in the newly created space, placing one of the pillows down on top. 

When he finishes he stands up straight again and catches Beth watching him. 

“They sometimes do checks in the night,” he shrugs. “Figure on this angle, and with me in the bed, they won’t be able to see you from the doorway.” 

Beth nods lightly, looks towards the closed bedroom door for a second before silently asking him permission. Rio nods in answer and she steps over the threshold and over to her makeshift bed, awkwardly lowering herself to the floor and out of sight from anyone who may come to the door. 

The space he’s created for her is small, it has to be in order to go unnoticed. Beth presses herself against the wall, draws her knees up slightly and leans her head back against it, watching Rio watch her. 

It’s still early. Probably around eight o’clock if she were to guess, but she is just so tired. It’s been a long and painful day. She’s ready to sleep now. Has been since she woke up in that apartment. Rio must know it too, doesn’t say anything to her as he leaves the room, just walks out, closing the door behind him. 

Beth’s grateful for the privacy. She doesn’t think she’d be able to fall into an easy sleep with Rio in the room staring at her. She still feels on edge though. She still feels like someone is going to jump out and get her at any moment, and there won’t be a thing she can do about it except hope that whatever it is Rio needs from her will be enough to have him come save her again. She’s pathetic. 

At least she feels somewhat safe like this, back pressed up against the wall, no one able to sneak up behind her, eyes on the door. If anyone does come for her, she’ll at least be able to see them coming. Not the most comforting of thoughts but it’s something, and Beth is taking what she can get right now, glass half full and all that. 

Rio’s bedroom is pretty sparse, though she supposes that’s because it’s not really his bedroom, just the bedroom he has to sleep in while Turner’s got him on a leash. It reminds her of the room in the apartment, bare and impersonal. She never thought she would be thinking back on it so fondly. 

She’s nearly nodding off, still sitting propped up against the wall when she hears the door open again. Her eyes shoot open and she hunches forward, ready to hide further under the bed if it’s one of the security guards. But Rio eventually slides into view, not looking at her as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

He isn’t in there for very long and when he comes out he closes the bedroom door, switches the light off and is climbing into bed and settling on the side closest to where she sits, facing her. She can smell the toothpaste on his breath. 

This is why she freaked out at the idea of him staying at the apartment with her. This is too much. Even when they were on good terms with each other she never saw him like this. It’s too domestic. It’s too personal. Especially with the way his eyes watch her through the shadows. 

“Do you usually go to bed at this time?” she whispers. 

“No.” 

Beth huffs. It’s like he knows she’s trying to fill the awkward silence between them. 

“Then shouldn’t you like, stick to your normal routine? Stay up longer?” she suggests. “You don’t want them getting suspicious.” 

And that way she can also fall asleep in peace and he can just come in later once she’s already unconscious and they don’t have to do whatever this is. 

“Probably. But I don’t trust you not to do something stupid. Prefer to keep an eye on you.” 

Beth rolls her eyes at him and she knows he catches it even though it’s dark. But also, fair enough. If it weren’t for the fact she’s a little worse for ware, she probably would have been scheming by now. 

“You need to get me a few things,” Beth tells him instead. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean like everyday things,” Beth quickly amends. She’s not trying to sound demanding. “If you’re going to keep me at that apartment I’m going to need some of my stuff. Unless you want me to keep stealing your clothes?” 

Rio looks her over in a way that suggests he doesn’t exactly mind it. 

“Come on,” Beth whines. “I don’t even have shoes. I’m sure Turner let you get a few of your things when he put you up here… your cologne for sure.” She mumbles that last part, but the way Rio smirks at her tells her he caught it. 

Rio doesn’t answer as per usual, so Beth drops it for now. She is still so tired, all she wants to do is sleep, but having Rio laid out on a bed in front of her is creating this weird, palpable kind of tension. She’s not sure if he notices it, but it’s there, hanging in the air between them, and building. 

“Why are you letting Turner keep you here anyway?” she tries, anything to put this thing out. “Couldn’t you just leave and not come back?” 

Beth is curious as to why Rio’s playing so nice. He doesn’t seem like the type who would cope well being kept under someone else’s control for long. Despite what freedom he is paying for, his reach is limited at the moment. If Rio is the bird, then Turner’s clipped his wings and is keeping him caged. Or maybe it was Beth who did the clipping? 

“Nah, I’m not running.” Rio adjusts his head on the pillow and leans closer to the edge of the mattress. “He thinks I’m helping him with Hector in exchange for a lighter sentence. But this ain’t a takedown. It’s a takeover.” 

“If it’s Hector you’re after, why don’t you just kill him?” 

She really shouldn’t sound so nonchalant about this. But she honestly would much prefer if Hector were dead than simply locked up in prison. She’s seen the movies. Sometimes they get out. Sometimes they keep going after you from behind bars. 

“Remind me, how’d that go for you when you attempted to takeover?” There’s an edge to his voice, an undercurrent of danger slipping through. 

“That was different and you know it.” Her voice sounds weak, fragile. She can’t look at him. 

Rio considers her for a moment before breathing out a scoff and continuing. “I got to set a few things in motion first. Make a few deals. Sever a few ties. It makes for a smoother transition. You cut them off at the knees before you go for their throat.” 

Beth almost lets a bittersweet smile cross her face. She used to be so terrified of Hector, she still is. But it’s no longer the paralyzing fear she once felt, like Hector was some omnipotent force that could never be stopped. 

Because now Rio’s back. And while Rio never scared her the way Hector did, never repulsed her with his complete lack of humanity the way Hector did, none of that matters if you can’t outsmart your opponent. And Rio’s so much smarter. He’s the real king and he’s back to take the kingdom. 

“So what? You’re dealing in guns and coke now? Moving up to heroin?” Beth asks him. 

“Who says I wasn’t already?” 

Beth sighs. She’ll give him that. She only ever scratched the surface when it came to him, both professionally and personally. 

“Money’s money,” Rio explains. “But no, that doesn’t interest me so much as his territory does. Always has. And now that I’m dead he’ll never see me coming.” 

Beth screws her face up at him. “I cannot believe that you are using the fact I shot you and everyone now thinking that you’re dead, as a business opportunity.” 

Rio shrugs. “It’s a chance to expand.” 

Beth doesn’t answer him, looks down at her lap and fiddles with his t-shirt, trying to decide whether she should bite her tongue or ask the question she’s wanted answered for a long time now. She goes with the latter. 

“Does everyone think your dead?” she asks cautiously. 

Rio raises an eyebrow at her, not sure where she’s going with this. 

“Marcus?” 

Rio’s demeanor immediately changes at the mention of his son’s name. His lips pursing, his brow furrowing, like he’s trying to work out what her angle is. He must decide it’s not malicious, because he eventually shakes his head. 

“He knows I’m okay,” he admits, watching her through narrowed eyes. “He was able to see me in hospital after it happened, but not for a while now. Safer that way. He’s pretty pissed though. I keep telling him that there’s a mess I gotta clean up, and that he’s just gotta wait till it’s over.” 

Beth does smile this time. Her few memories of the sweet, little boy replacing the crying, screaming one from her dreams. Everything will be okay once it’s all over. Marcus will get his dad back and everything will be okay again. For him. For her kids. For Dean. And Annie and Ruby. Everyone will be okay. Everyone except her. 

Beth feels herself getting choked up at the thought. Why can’t she just accept this? There’s something about picturing Rio and Marcus together, laughing and playing in the park like they used to, that makes her realize just what she’s going to be missing out on with her own kids. With everyone. 

She won’t be there to see them graduate, or get married or have babies of their own. She won’t be there for any future girl’s nights with Annie and Ruby. Won’t get to see Sadie grow into the man he was always meant to be. Watch Sara and Harry turn into mini versions of their mom and dad. So smart and so kind. None of it. 

Beth levels her gaze at him, she doesn’t care if he can see the tears in her eyes. 

“So once this is all over… that’s when you’ll do it?” 

“Do what?” Rio looks at her confused. 

She clarifies for him. “Kill me.” 

Rio looks caught off guard for a moment, nostrils flaring, jaw clenching, his eyes turn impossibly black. 

“Why’re you asking me that right now?” He’s annoyed at her, acting like she’s wrong to be bringing it up. 

Beth shrugs. “Even prisoners on death row get their execution dates,” she quips sadly. 

Rio stares at her quietly, chewing his lip for a moment, then he nods. 

“Yeah, once this is all over. That’s when I’ll do it.” 

They watch each other through the darkness, Beth pressed against the wall, as far back as it will allow, but still close to where Rio observes her from his side on the bed. The tension refuses to ebb between them. His eyes are the last thing she remembers before she falls asleep. 

*** 

She’s crawling onto the mattress. That’s the first thing Beth comprehends. She’s crawling onto the mattress and her side is magically no longer hurting and he’s already flipping her underneath him and he’s inside of her. 

It’s all happening in flashes but the pleasure is steady and his face is buried in her neck and everything is good until it isn’t. 

He’s still inside of her but there’s a gun pressing against her collarbone and dragging down her heaving chest and it’s cold and it’s pressing and he’s staring at her with those dark eyes and please? Not like this. 

“Don’t,” she begs. “Please don’t,” she cries. 

She knew it was going to happen, she did, she knew. He told her. But not like this. Please don’t do it like this. It’s not over yet. They’re not over yet. 

“No, no, no,” she’s saying over and over and everything is spinning and fading but the pleasure is still constant and no. No, that shouldn’t be. 

But then there’s a hand over her mouth, and it feels different and warm and so very real and she’s startling awake. 

A dream. 

Rio’s leaning over the bed, his left hand gripping the back of her neck and his right covering her mouth. His eyes shine bright even in the darkness, finding her own, wide as saucers. He tears his eyes away from hers when they both hear the footsteps outside the door. She was talking in her sleep. 

Rio quickly pulls her to him, forcing her to hunch low, not letting her go as he readjusts against the mattress, making himself look bigger than he is to guarantee his body shields her from view. Her head rests against the edge of the mattress next to his, and she locks eyes with him as the door opens and a sliver of light enters the room. 

What are they going to do? What is Rio going to do if they find her here? He can’t kill the guy. Can he try and play it off? Pretend that he decided to sneak in a little late-night company? Doubt it. People find it hard to believe that someone like Rio could be attracted to someone like her at the best of times, let alone when her face is covered in an array of cuts and bruises. 

This guy is going to find her and he’s going to call Turner. Then it’s all going to be over. Both Rio and her will be arrested. Hector will know for sure she was the snitch and kill her family in some sick form of retribution like he always said. The panic begins to set in. 

Rio stays completely still and Beth’s fingers find his wrist where his hand remains pressed against her mouth, wrapping themselves around him tightly as leftover tears from her dream fall against his knuckles. His face is so close to hers. She can smell the mint of his toothpaste again and the musk of his cologne. She doesn’t want to know what she must smell like. A mixture of blood and anxious sweats if she were to guess. 

She finds his pulse beneath the pads of her fingers, thrumming away, slower than her own that she can hear pounding deafeningly in her ears. She focuses on it. Lets the steady beat calm and soothe her. He’s alive and he’s here. Whatever happens, he’ll know what to do. She’s not alone. She can do this. 

Whoever it is at the door, they aren’t saying anything. They don’t enter the room either, they just stand in the doorway quietly listening. Beth holds her breath. Rio just holds onto her. 

He holds her until he sees the light abate, he holds her until he hears the door close, he holds her until he hears the footsteps receding, he holds her until he’s sure they’re alone. 

When he does finally release her, Beth quickly pulls back from him, out of breath and panting heavy. 

Rio’s staring at her, staring at her mouth specifically. Beth licks at her bottom lip and tastes the blood. She’s bleeding again. He made her bleed. She collapses back against the wall. 

“Elizabeth… What was that?” Rio whispers hesitantly. 

She’s never heard his voice sound so unsure before, but she understands why he’s so alarmed. The nightmares get vocal sometimes, not unusual for her these days, but not something anyone other than Annie has ever been around to witness. It’s intense. It scares her too. 

Beth shakes her head. She can’t explain it. “Bad dream.” 

Rio nods, eyes searching her face, pausing on the bruises. 

“Ace?” he asks. 

Because of course he thinks it’s about what Ace did. He doesn’t know that this isn’t something new for her. That this has been happening for months and months now. That this is about him. 

“No, it’s not about Ace or what he did,” she shakes her head, her lip trembling. “It’s about something I did.” 

Rio doesn’t say anything. 

Beth can’t tell if he knows what she’s talking about. He probably does. He’s always known her better than anyone. Except in that moment. Except when he handed her his gun. He didn’t know her then and she hasn’t been able to recognize herself since either. 

Beth slowly begins to shift where she sits, easing herself down until she’s curled up on the floor, pulling up a blanket to bury herself under, unable to turn away from him due to her bruises. She falls asleep to his face again, dreams about him in an intangible kind of way, where she knows he’s there but she can’t really see him, where they’re simply just existing together. 

When she wakes in the morning it’s to his hand at her shoulder, gently stirring her. He’s already fully dressed and showered and she can’t help but picture the process taking place around her as she slept soundly in his sheets. 

He doesn’t say much, tells her the guards have switched shifts and that Demon’s waiting outside for her when she’s ready, disappears after that. She’s not sure where he goes and she doesn’t try looking for him, just collects all her blankets and folds them neatly onto the end of his already made bed, uses the bathroom and splashes some cold water on her slightly less swollen face. 

Goons number one and two are out in the living room again. They glare at her when she emerges from the bedroom. Beth just smirks at them and walks out the front door to meet Demon, asking if he kept any of her egg rolls. He did. 

She doesn’t bother trying to say goodbye to Rio, doesn’t look back at the house as they drive away. She knows he’ll come seek her out again eventually. She figures he’ll have to if he wants to be the one to pull the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'm thinking this will be four parts maximum. But don't quote me on that.  
> \- Also, literally this whole chapter came about because for some reason I couldn't stop picturing Beth hiding next to Rio's bed on the floor and them having whispered conversations. Why? I don't know. But this is where it got us.  
> \- Lastly, I have been reading all your comments and I can't tell you how much I appreciate them. I always feel so self-indulgent when I reply to comments but I'm trying to get over it. You guys write the nicest, smartest things and they deserve a proper thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I have mixed feelings about this chapter. It's super dialogue-heavy, and not as far along as I thought I was going to be by the end of it, but again, it felt like a natural place to finish. I'm really trying to set a mood here. An angsty, dark, desperate kind of mood. So, sorry if it seems a little slow, just felt necessary for Brio development. But I promise, we will get there!

Two weeks pass before Beth sees Rio again, and with his absence comes a relative calm that allows her to fall into a comfortable routine within her new home. Not completely comfortable obviously, she still is for all intensive purposes a prisoner within these walls, but the mind can get used to almost anything if it has to.

The first few days were the hardest, there’s no denying that. She was fragile, both physically and emotionally, and she spent most of her time hiding under a pile of blankets, curled up in bed nursing her bruised and battered body. She mostly just slept, barely ate, there wasn’t all that much she could do while she was still healing.

At first, she tried to avoid Demon and Cisco as much as possible. One of them is always present in the apartment with her no matter the time, Cisco mostly staying throughout the day and a slight overlap when Demon would show to takeover for the night or vice versa. But as long as she remained in the bedroom with the door closed, she could almost go the entire day without having to interact with either of them.

Their presence isn’t even all that necessary. Since her escape, the front door has been reinforced with a multitude of new locks and deadbolts to ensure there is little she can do to get out, even if she did somehow manage to get one of the keys again.

Her only hope these days is that perhaps if she were to make enough noise, she might be able to garner some of her neighbor’s attention. Which isn’t exactly the best plan she’s ever come up with, but she keeps it in mind anyhow, just in case an opportunity was ever to present itself.

She finds herself able to settle in though, with what little demands she has made being met with relatively fair conditions, the most important one being that she is now allowed to make phone calls to her children and her sister. It’s only one a day, which means she has to alternate, and always within earshot of Demon or Cisco so they know she isn’t plotting, but it’s enough.

She’s also allowed to make shopping lists, which Demon and Cisco take turns completing, making trips down to the grocery store for her. Beth found she very easily was able to get back into Cisco’s good books after she had him buy her the ingredients for choc-fudge brownies, and then made him an apology tray full of them. Also, the fact that she did not end up scratching his car was deeply appreciated on his part.

They provided her with a few of her things too. Like her brand of shampoo and conditioner she uses. Her favorite soap. A new toothbrush! Beth has never been so excited for toiletries in her life. She almost hugged Demon that third day when he showed up with the bags. Up until then she had been forced to make-do with what looked like cheap hotel soap and a disposable toothbrush that’s packaging dated back to the 90’s that she happened to find forgotten at the back of the bathroom cupboard.

The clothes situation did renew some tension within the apartment. She had been so looking forward to the comfort of wearing her own clothes again, only for Demon to hand her over a bagful that did not belong to her. It was more of the same t-shirts and sweatpants, a couple of pairs of black skinny jeans that Beth was dubious as to whether would even fit her, and even a few summery dresses that had necklines finishing way too low and hemlines finishing way too high.

Beth had been irritated but understanding when Demon explained to her that her condo was being watched by both Hector and the feds, so it would be risky to try and retrieve any of her own things. And even though she had no intention of wearing the dresses, it was moving into the warmer months, so she did appreciate the gesture. But then she got her hands on the underwear that had been bought for her and any initial gratitude instantly dissipated.

It was more like lingerie than underwear. Looked expensive too. All matching sets with lace, in an array of blacks, reds, navies and soft lavenders. Even Demon looked embarrassed when she pulled out a red thong and glared at him accusingly.

Demon had quickly blurted out that it wasn’t him, Rio had just told him to deliver the bags. Which Beth already knew. She wasn’t stupid. So, she decided to cut him a break, he looked traumatized enough, just told him to let Rio know he was an asshole. Demon had promptly agreed.

She knows it was a powerplay. That Rio was only doing it to get under her skin, reinforce the fact that she has very little control over her circumstances right now, even down to what kind of underwear she wears. But Beth is refusing to retaliate. She won’t take the bait. It was very clearly outlined to her that any requests granted, like the phone calls, were considered privileges, and if she were to try anything like she did last time, those privileges could be easily revoked.

She can’t let that happen. The only thing keeping her sane are those phone calls. Getting to check in with her children and chat with her sister is all she finds herself looking forward to these days. Ruby’s always there too of course, Annie puts her on speakerphone and she sits quietly and listens as they go back and forth telling her all about the chaos of their day-to-day, laughing about how Stan has turned into their very own personal bodyguard, a job he takes very seriously. It’s nice, it feels like a return to normalcy, but their conversations are always fraught with loaded pauses, weighed down with words left unsaid.

There are rules. Beth must keep things brief and nondescript when discussing her own day. She can’t talk about where she is, who she is with or why. The less they know the better, Demon had said. Beth has to agree, she’d rather keep them in the dark about certain things. She doesn’t want them painting targets on their back and putting themselves on Hector’s radar, or back on Rio’s for that matter. For all she knows Hector’s already watching them anyway, waiting to see if they’ll lead him to her.

Annie doesn’t take heed of any of her warnings though, just keeps asking Beth questions, specifically when it is she is going to get to see her again. Beth knows her little sister can sense that whatever is going on is a lot more serious than anything they’ve dealt with before, the question spilling out of her like a nervous compulsion every time. But Beth just lies to her, keeps telling her everything is going to be okay and it’ll all be over soon.

Neither Ruby or Annie know Rio’s back in the picture. They still think this is something else caused by someone else. She lets them believe it. They’d too easily guess her inevitably grim fate if they knew the truth.

The children are easier to lie to. So is Dean. It helps that he’s got Bullet with him, briefing him from his end on what he is and isn’t allowed to ask her. But as far as Dean knows, Hector’s after her and Beth is in hiding, and she used her own connections within the organization to get him and the kids out in time.

He doesn’t know this is Rio either. Thank god. He’d probably do something stupid and get himself killed if he knew Rio was the one protecting his children. She’s seen pride get the best of better men than Dean.

But she is coping. For the most part. Demon, Cisco and her have fallen into their own little rhythm together. She cooks for them every night, bakes treats for them throughout the day in the same sort of manic way she usually does when she’s spiraling but trying to keep it together.

She put a stop to all the takeout the first week into their stay, decided to make use of the old but working oven in the apartment and put together some healthier, home-cooked meals instead. It turns out Demon and Cisco both prefer her cooking too, so now Cisco and her spend most of their mornings discussing what they should have for dinner that night.

Depending on how the boys’ days pan out - because they still are doing other things for Rio in between babysitting Beth - Cisco will sometimes help her with the food prep or Demon will come back to the apartment earlier than needed with a couple of missing ingredients.

It’s a strange dynamic but Beth needs it. She likes having other people to look after and focus on. Otherwise the only thing she’d be able to think about is how lonely and isolated she is. Or that at any moment her time may be up and Rio’s going to come for her again. Which he does at the end of that second week.

Beth has just hopped out of the shower, clean and pink all over, drying herself in front of the mirror absentmindedly when Rio finally decides to make an appearance. She’s reluctantly pulled on the lavender set of underwear he so generously had bought for her - the only slightly modest pair in terms of how much of her ass cheeks the panties actually cover - and is taking the opportunity to check the progress of her healing.

The swelling in her face has gone down much to her relief, and with the bruising also faded to a dull and muddy brown, she actually resembles herself again. The cuts have scabbed over too, a healthy pink signaling no infection on both her cheek and lip, leaving her confident she’ll be left without any scars.

Her ribs though, her ribs are a different story. They are still mottled with bruises. A paler green rather than that awful purple, so there has been some improvement, but they’re still dark enough to be causing her pain when she hooks her bra at her back.

Beth is in her own world when she steps out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, towel still in hand, making her way over to the closet to sort through her limited options and figure out what to wear. It’s probably going to end up being a t-shirt and sweatpants, it usually is. While the jeans did end up fitting, she doesn’t see much point going through the struggle of pulling them on when she’s just going to be sitting around the apartment all day, and the dresses aren’t an option. She’d rather not have that much skin on display when her only audience is Demon and Cisco.

Except they aren’t her only audience, they aren’t even in the apartment right now, instead, standing in the now open doorway of the bedroom, is Rio, leaning against the doorframe, eyes already scanning the length of her.

At first, she startles, so surprised when she finally spots him that it takes her a moment to remember to pull her towel around her in an attempt to cover herself up, her cheeks already flushing red. She’s still not used to seeing him. It still hits her like a ton of bricks to be in his presence after over a year of thinking he was gone. And it certainly doesn’t help her cope any better that she happens to be half-naked right now.

She tries to simultaneously tug the towel lower down her thigh and higher up her chest while Rio just watches her with the slightest upturn to his mouth like he finds the whole thing amusing.

“What are you doing here?” Beth grits out, keeping a hand at her chest to still the rapid beating of her heart, and maybe to help cover some of her ample cleavage still peeking over the towel’s edge.

It only draws his attention to it though.

He’s done this on purpose, she just knows it. He’s purposely shown up unannounced to catch her off guard so he can claim the upper hand before the conversations even started.

“I came to check on you,” Rio says, widening his eyes innocently. “Make sure everything’s been to your liking thus far. That sort of thing.”

“Funny,” Beth comments, doesn’t try and hide her sarcasm. “Why are you really here?”

“What? You don’t believe me?” Rio asks feigning offense, but Beth can hear an angry edge in his voice. “I told my boys ‘only the best for Elizabeth.’ Just want to make sure they’re providing. I hear you’ve been making quite the number of demands.”

She scoffs. “Hardly. Just a few things here and there. But I’d be happy to discuss it with you if you’re really so concerned. Perhaps a little later?” she asks. “Maybe after I put some clothes on?”

Rio just gives her another slow once over, but doesn’t move.

Beth doesn’t know what’s happened between now and the last time she saw him, but something’s changed. She can see it in the way he looks at her. When they were at the house he had been gentler with her, civil, polite. He even excused himself so she could get changed in privacy at one point, a stark contrast to what’s happening now.

Maybe it was her injuries. Maybe he’d pitied the state she was in and it dulled his anger towards her somewhat. But now that he’s seen her again, and she’s looking better, it’s all coming back to him in full force.

“You know that door was closed for a reason,” she tries again. “Why don’t you wait outside?” she gently coaxes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Rio straightens, pushing off the wall and instead taking a step further into the room.

He shrugs. “Why? Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Rio, please?” Beth says, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Leave so I can get dressed.”

“Come on ma,” he croons, coming closer still. “You had me all undressed in front of you the other day. It’s only fair.”

Beth takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably where she stands but trying to stay calm. “And I would have been polite and waited outside if I could have, but we had other things going on at the time.”

Rio hums under his breath in response, even laughs a little. “Yeah, that’s right… cause you’re a good girl, ain’t you? Didn’t even try and sneak a peek.”

He advances on her, coming right up into her space so that the back of her hand still at her chest brushes against the fabric of his shirt.

“But that didn’t have anything to do with good manners now did it?”

She can only hold her breath when Rio raises his hand and with the pads of his fingers, presses gently at the left side of her chest, just a quick brush above the swell of her breast. Then he does it again, moves slightly up and over to the right, then one more time, lower, fingers slipping underneath the edge of her towel.

Just three simple touches, mapping out on her body the order in which she left her bullet holes. Beth’s mouth goes dry, her heart clenches painfully in her chest. He knows exactly why she couldn’t bear to look at him in that bathroom.

Rio drops his hand once he’s finished, but he remains staring down at where his fingers brushed uninterrupted pale skin, like maybe his eyes alone could bore their own holes, leave his mark. The tension vibrating through his body is so profound Beth can feel it, pulling him taut and tight like a rubber band ready to snap. She waits.

“Drop your towel.”

Those words aren’t what she’s expecting. Words aren’t what she’s expecting. She looks up at him tearfully to find his eyes are already watching her face again.

“What?” Beth manages to get out, clutching the towel even tighter around her.

“I want to see.”

Beth is already shaking her head, ready to yell at him to get out, forget any pretense of civility between them. But then she notices that he’s taken a step back and his eyes are focusing lower. He’s looking to her ribs. That’s when she realizes that he isn’t being lascivious, and whatever was happening between them in that moment before, has now passed.

He just wants to check her bruises.

Beth hesitates, keeps her hold on the towel firm for a moment, before parting it open enough on the left to expose her damaged ribs to him. She doesn’t particularly want to do this, but she feels she needs to placate him right now, play along while he’s focused on something other than his anger towards her.

Rio doesn’t say anything as he looks her over, doesn’t try to touch her, just ducks his head a little and carefully examines her side. He saw firsthand exactly what kind of state Ace had left her in, cleaned her up before she even got a chance to see how bad it was. He’d know better than anyone that despite how ugly they still look, there’s been some major improvement.

“What’d he hit you with?” Rio asks, his voice is quiet.

Beth can’t look at him.

“His fist,” she says, staring up at the ceiling. “I just bruise easily. It didn’t help the way he squeezed at it after, but apparently he liked the noises I was making so-”

Beth cuts herself off, a lump forming in her throat. She will not cry about it. Not in front of him. She doesn’t want to explain to him how it made her feel to have someone actually get off on seeing her in pain. She doesn’t know any more if he’d be understanding or merely tell her she deserves it.

Rio stands back up straight to look at her but Beth avoids his eyes, quickly covering herself with her towel again. She doesn’t know what he sees in her expression, but she feels it when he gives her some space and takes a step back.

“Get dressed,” he says simply. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He turns away without another word and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Beth feels like she can finally breathe again.

She takes a second to actually start moving, staring at the closed door blankly, trying to swallow down any leftover emotions and pull herself together.

She has no idea what that was. Rio went from salacious to threatening to concerned all in the span of minutes, and Beth just let him. She always found it hard to keep up with his ever-changing moods before, but this is something else.

She doesn’t even blame him for it, doesn’t feel like she can. Beth doesn’t know how she’d behave around the person who shot her three times and left her for dead either. She can’t imagine being around her is an easy feat for him.

She dresses quickly, throwing on a t-shirt and some sweatpants like she knew she would, all too aware that he could easily change his mind and come back in at any moment. It takes her less than a minute, better than she’d promised.

When Beth rounds the corner into the kitchen, the hammering in her chest that she had managed to quieten down while alone, picks right back up where it left off. Rio’s leaning against the sink again, tea in hand, watching her calmly just like when she saw him for the first time some weeks ago. She wonders if it’s another calculated move on his part to further put her off. It wouldn’t surprise her. He’s smart like that, knows how to manipulate with a practiced subtlety.

She hesitates for only a split second before she makes her decision to walk around the counter and lean back against it opposite him, mirroring his stance. She wants to appear unruffled, but as soon as Rio looks her over again, and despite now being fully clothed, she still feels just as exposed as she did in the bedroom.

She clears her throat awkwardly, hand coming up to push damp hair that’s starting to curl around her face as it dries, behind her ear. “You know how I’ve been making so many demands?”

Rio nods.

“Well I’ve got another one.”

He narrows his eyes and takes a sip of his tea, looking at her expectantly from behind his cup.

“I demand that you knock next time,” Beth states dryly.

It has it’s intended effect and Rio smiles at her, the kind where he has to look away for a second to gather himself before looking back at her with a more open expression.

But maybe that’s worse. Maybe she should prefer his anger. Because when he’s looking at her like this it feels like a step back in time, to him sitting at her picnic table laughing at Dean’s misfortune of having her panties stuffed into his mouth by a couple of kids, or smiling at her in her family’s kitchen because she’s offered to make him a sandwich despite running out of bread.

She truly thought he was dead. She truly thought she had murdered him. She allowed herself to replay these memories over and over in her mind once he was gone, allowed herself to miss these moments with him. But now here he is, back and very much alive, creating new ones. She just doesn’t know how she is supposed to feel, both as the person who tried to kill him, and as the person he’s going to kill.

“I’ll think about it,” he says.

Beth’s so lost in thought she almost forgets that he’s answering her.

She rolls her eyes at him, but there’s no malice to it. “You finally going to tell me why you’re here?”

Rio nods and puts his tea down, a hand disappearing into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a very familiar mobile phone.

Briefly she had wondered about what had happened to her car and handbag after leaving them at the warehouse and waking up in the apartment. But she had a few more pressing matters at hand concerning her life and its span, so eventually she just kind of assumed they’d been stored or discarded somewhere unknown to her and that she’d probably never get either back.

Beth almost moves to reach forward and take it out of his hands, but she knows better.

“Why do you have my phone?” she asks instead.

“Need it for something. Can’t seem to figure out the passcode though. That’s more your area of expertise.”

Beth doesn’t let her smile slip through even though she does feel a little smug. So Rio worked out how she managed to find his address. Good. He should know she’s still capable of outsmarting him every once and a while.

“I’m guessing refusal isn’t an option?”

“Nah, not really.”

They both know he doesn’t need to threaten her. She already knows what she could lose if she were to refuse him.

“9864,” she says reluctantly, briefly wondering if she has anything saved on her phone that she might not want him seeing.

Rio’s thumb moves over her lock screen. “Not your birthday then? An anniversary?” he teases, glancing up at her.

“No,” Beth shrugs. “I’m not that sentimental.”

Rio snickers. “Don’t I know it,” and looks back down at her phone.

She decides not to touch that one, just watches him with a prickling curiosity as he starts going through her phone.

“What are you doing?” Beth asks irritated. “I could help you if you told me what it is you’re looking for.”

Rio shakes his head. “Not looking for anything. Just gotta send out a few texts.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t concern you,” Rio says dismissively, typing away.

“It’s my phone! Of course it concerns me.”

Rio rolls his eyes, locks her phone again and shoves it back into his pocket.

“You know something I really didn’t miss? You’re incessant drama. Maybe I should just leave this shit to Demon, make him be the one to have to deal with you, save myself the headache.”

Beth doesn’t reply as he pushes away from the sink, just watches as he steps into her space for the second time today.

“Should I do that Elizabeth? Do I need to do that?”

Beth looks up at him nervously as he towers over her. She can smell him.

“I don’t know what you need, that’s kind of the problem,” Beth murmurs, shaking her head. “What am I doing here Rio? What do you need from me?”

He doesn’t like that question, she can tell immediately in the way he pulls his head back to glare at her, lips curling into a sneer. “Nothing. I don’t need nothing from you.”

He takes a step back, scrubbing a hand down his face and pulling her phone out again to continue typing his message.

“Hector’s focus has been squarely set on you ever since you’re little disappearing act from the warehouse,” Rio says, head down, not looking at her. “I’m just making sure it stays that way.”

Great, Beth thinks, piecing together what he is telling her. Rio doesn’t want Hector looking elsewhere for his rotten egg, so he’s going to pack on the heat, make her look even more guilty than she already is and somehow use her phone to do it. That’s all she needs right now, to aggravate the violent crime boss even more. She is so screwed.

“Is that it?” she asks.

Rio looks up at her, confused by the question.

“Is what it?”

Beth sighs. “Is that all you need me for? To stay gone so Hector keeps thinking I’m the one behind whatever it is you’re doing?”

Rio nods. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“And so that’s why you didn’t let him kill me at the warehouse? Because then you wouldn’t have your scapegoat.”

“That, and I didn’t trust you to keep your mouth shut while your fingers were being removed. Couldn’t have you exposing Demon.”

Beth opens her mouth like she’s going to snipe something back at him, but nothing comes out, and she takes a moment to compose herself before she asks her next question.

“So why not just kill me now then?” she shrugs. “Hector already thinks I’m the one making a play for his crown, and you’ve now got access to my phone to setup whatever’s needed to make it look like I’m still pulling strings behind the scenes. Why not just do it now?”

“You want the truth?”

“Yes,” Beth breathes. “Of course.”

“It’s more convenient to keep you alive.”

Beth doesn’t understand. “Convenient?”

Rio nods. “I want Hector thinking you’re in the wind, so I can’t have you turning up somewhere unexpected giving the game away. And since Turner’s got me on a tight leash and I’ve gotta lay low, it’s too risky trying to move a body right now. I’m lacking my usual resources. It’s just easier this way. Logistically.”

Beth physically feels the blood drain from her face, her stomach churning. She has the urge to be sick. Her whole life has been reduced to a matter of logistics. Just like with any of his business decisions, he’s meticulous, a careful planner. It isn’t her life’s worth that’s postponed him from pulling the trigger, but the risk in the aftermath.

Beth swallows down the lump in her throat. “And you used to call me cold.” It’s meant to come out like a joke, but she can’t hide the distress in her voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry darlin’. Were you hoping for something a little more sentimental?”

Beth can’t even look at him, because no, she wasn’t. She knew he hadn’t been lying to her when he said he was going to kill her. She knew it wasn’t just a bitter threat in retaliation for what she had done. He wants retribution.

She was just hoping that when the time arrived it would come down to something a little more meaningful than a simple case of what happens to be more convenient, had always thought that when she finally found herself in this moment of acceptance, everything would stop feeling so numbingly pointless. Yet here she is, essentially a walking corpse Rio’s waiting for a better time to dispose of.

“No, I wasn’t,” she says honestly, choking back tears. “I expected nothing less. Guess it’s just harder than I thought it was going to be to actually hear you say it.”

A tear slips out and makes its way down her cheek, and Beth is quickly swiping at it, pretending like it didn’t happen. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Rio watching her quietly, probably contemplating whatever cutting thing he’s going to say next.

But she’s saved from hearing it when the sound of multiple locks turning draws his attention to the door, pushing open to reveal an unsuspecting Demon, a bag of groceries in hand for tonight’s dinner that Beth had forgotten she’d asked for.

Demon hesitates in the doorway when he spots Rio, apparently surprised to find him there, glancing between the two of them warily. He recovers quickly though, and continues locking the door behind him and walking over to place the bags on the kitchen countertop.

“Cisco here?” Demon asks, and Beth has to turn her body slightly to look at where he stands on the other side of the island behind her.

Rio raises an eyebrow at him, his expression one of challenge. “Nah, sent him home early. Decided to take over for a bit.”

Demon just stares at Rio in response, and Rio juts his chin out defiantly as he glares back, apparently having some kind of weighted conversation with only their eyes that Beth is not a part of.

Demon eventually gives in, treats him to one of his barely-there shakes of his head, like he had done for Beth before in front of Hector, before breaking eye contact to focus on her.

Beth sniffles quietly but tries to give him a small smile.

“You good?” he asks.

The question catches her off guard, and she finds herself giving a quick, panicked glance in Rio’s direction. Rio doesn’t notice though, too busy glaring at Demon still. Beth takes her chance and looks back at him to return a quick nod.

She hears Rio scoff, turns in time to see him finally break his focus from Demon, and watches as he steps up to the counter beside her.

“So,” he says, too brightly, grabbing for the bags Demon has just put down. “What are we having for dinner tonight?”

He’s right next to her, pressed along her side, his arm brushing against hers as he rifles through the groceries.

“Chicken pot pie,” Demon answers.

Beth can no longer see his expression, she stays still where she is, facing the sink where Rio had once been standing. But she can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s unimpressed with whatever it is that is happening.

“That it?” Rio responds, before turning towards her, whispering directly into her ear. “Not gonna offer to make him a sandwich? Give him a little taste?”

Beth’s eyes fall to her feet. Suddenly flooded with shame, she keeps her head down, trying to ignore the heat of him next to her.

“Boss-“ Demon starts, drawing Rio’s attention away from her, Beth thinks purposely.

“What?” Rio cuts in before he can get another word out. “You’re all over here playing happy families and shit, just wondering where my invite is.”

“It’s nearly shift change,” Demon says carefully, calmly. “You need to be getting back.”

She feels Rio’s hand disappearing into his pocket, pulling out her phone and checking the time.

“So, it is. Guess we’ll have to save it for another time then,” he says to Demon, or maybe to her. She doesn’t know.

She stays frozen as she feels his body vanish from next to her, just listens to the sound of the door unlocking and closing behind him, doesn’t start sliding down to the floor until she hears him locking it again from the other side. It’s not a choice, her knees buckle from underneath her.

She hunches forward once she hits the ground, burying her face into her knees as she starts to cry, to sob. Finally ready for that breakdown she’s been putting off for so long now. Demon doesn’t say anything to her, but she feels it when he rounds the counter to stand next to her, a hand coming out and resting gently against a shaking shoulder.

She wasn’t lying when she told Rio it was hard to hear his answer, it was like a punch to the gut, expelling whatever hope was left from her. He was so matter-of-fact and indifferent, just like he had been when they sat in his car before it all happened and he told her she was nothing but work to him. A statement he’s proving unequivocally true now.

Demon doesn’t leave her side until she’s calm enough to start preparing the pastry for their pie, and even then, he stays with her, quietly cutting up vegetables while she bustles around the kitchen, once again manic with it.

Later she’ll find out from him that during Rio’s quest to figure out how she knew where Turner was keeping him, he interrogated Cisco again, more thoroughly this time, asking him exactly what was said between them before Beth made it out of the apartment. Cisco was honest, something she doesn’t blame him for, and told Rio about her cold little speech detailing how she invited him into her bed before deciding to shoot him.

Beth was quick to defend herself, explaining that she didn’t mean it, it wasn’t like that, that she only said it in order to convince Cisco that she was serious. To her surprise Demon had told her that it was alright, that he understood.

Now that she has context, Beth can understand Rio’s behavior towards her, can understand why their encounter was filled with so many obvious allusions to the intimacy they once shared and why it was carelessly weaved between so many harsh words of indifference.

But even if he hadn’t found out what she said, Beth would still understand it. She did start this after all. She’s the one who first pulled the trigger. She can’t act all surprised that he’s definite in his decision to pull back.

***

After that day, Beth hardly sees him, his visits to the apartment reverting to rare occurrences, few and far between. It allows that relative peace to return to her days. Just the three of them falling back into their usual routines, with a whole lot less crying. Though sometimes when she’s in the shower she can tell it’s not just the spray of the water trailing down her face.

Rio rarely even warrants a mention, Demon especially going out of his way to avoid the topic, changing the subject if an oblivious Cisco ever happens to bring him up, even going as far as to warn her when he’s received word he’s coming by.

When he does actually show, he’s never there for long and he’s never there for her. He stays for maybe ten, fifteen minutes tops, before he’s disappearing again. Sometimes she isn’t even aware he’s been there until after he’s already left. Which suits her fine. She prefers it that way, goes out of her way to avoid him. Though she isn’t always successful.

Sometimes it can’t be helped. Sometimes she’ll wake up in the morning and walk into the kitchen to find him already there and talking quietly with Cisco, or it’ll be late into the evening and she’s sitting on the couch half-asleep watching TV when all of a sudden, she hears his voice somewhere behind her discussing business with Demon.

Beth never lingers long in these moments, taking the opportunity to make a quick retreat into her bedroom. Rio never acknowledges her anyway, just continues with what he is doing as if she isn’t even there. She’s okay with that too.

She can’t stand seeing him. There’s just too much baggage there, packed in with every ugly, wicked thing she hates about the both of them. She’d rather hide from it given the choice. But she still suffers in sleep.

Her dreams have gotten worse. Or more predictable. They used to vary somewhat, sift between the different facets of her guilt and manifest accordingly. But now it’s always the same. They’re always together, it’s always good, and then she feels the gun.

She’s taken to staying up half the night, exhausting herself and only ever falling asleep in the early hours of the morning, an attempt to combat it. She can’t really say that it’s working, but the fear of that nightmare golden gun has her continuing to try all the same.

She asked Cisco to loan her a book to keep her occupied during those times, which he did, his very own copy of Lord of the Rings. It’s not her usual choice of genre, but she’s not complaining. She knows she could probably request something specific to her tastes if she really wanted to, knows he’d probably go out of his way and get it for her. But he seemed genuinely excited that she was starting the series, and he likes discussing the different themes with her over dinner. So she’s sticking with it.

It’s three in the morning and Beth is three chapters in and three cups of coffee deep when she decides if she ever wants to sleep again, she’s going to need to call it quits. She likes to try and stay awake until at least four, and has become a little obsessive with traveling back and forth to the kettle to keep her from drifting off too soon in between chapters.

She’s tired, always is, and is on her way to the kitchen to abandon her mug in the sink for the final time tonight when she registers Cisco still sitting on the couch where she left him, but doesn’t spare much of a glance in his direction as she passes him. He’s used to her anyway.

Cisco’s been with her tonight since dinner, lounging on the couch in the living room, aimlessly flicking through channels on the TV. He doesn’t comment on her being awake at such odd hours, if anything, she thinks he likes the company, sometimes asking her to bring him over a tea while she’s there, strangely very trusting despite their shared history with the hot beverage.

It isn’t until she’s about to turn the corner and disappear into the kitchen, that the loud sound of elephants trumpeting from the television has her shooting a glance over her shoulder at him, and she very quickly notices the man on the couch is far too lean to be Cisco.

Instead, slouched down on the couch, head pressed lazily against the backrest, peering through heavy eyes and apparently watching a documentary on elephants, sits Rio. Almost the exact same time she notices him, he decides to turn his head languidly and acknowledge her.

He doesn’t say anything of course, just does a quick sweep over her form as Beth just stands there staring at him, paused mid-stride, dressed only in a grey, oversized t-shirt that stops mid-thigh - a far cry from her usual matching pajama sets she usually sleeps in.

She’s already forgotten what she was doing, why she was out here, despite clutching her mug tightly in hand.

“Hi,” she says, whispering, not wanting to disturb the quiet that comes along with such early hours.

“Hi,” he nods back.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” she says after a beat, not really knowing what she means by that, aware that it suggests she may not have left her bedroom if she did know. She doesn’t correct herself.

“Cisco had to step out and take care of something for me and Demon’s somewhere pretending to be friends with Hector. I had a few hours before I needed to head back so…” Rio shrugs, looking more relaxed than she’s ever seen him since he’s been back. “Besides, you guys get cable here.”

Beth nods even though he’s no longer looking at her, eyes back on the screen in front of him. She wonders how long he’s been here like this, tries to remember when the last time she came out of her room was. Maybe an hour ago?

“It’s late ma, why’re you still up?” He’s looking at her again, his expression as innocuous as his question.

Beth shrugs. “Can’t sleep.” Which is better than admitting to the fact she’s refusing to in order to avoid her dreams about him.

Rio nods and hums under his breath. “You like elephants?”

“Sure.”

“Take a seat.”

Rio tilts his head in indication, and Beth hesitates for a moment before slowly rounding the couch to sit down. Not next to him, she isn’t insane. The couch is long and L-shaped and she chooses to sit on the side he currently isn’t sprawled out on, tucking her feet up under her and resting her empty mug on her thigh, vaguely aware it’s where Cisco was sitting when she spilt tea all over him.

Beth has to suppress a smile when she spots the empty plate on the coffee table in front of him. There are obvious leftover chocolate smudges staining the porcelain, letting her know he raided the fridge when he got here, already stole a piece of the cake she’d baked earlier that day.

“Fair warning, it’s super sad though. It’s about how they train ‘em up to make money off ‘em. But are like super cruel and shit behind the scenes,” Rio tells her without taking his eyes off the TV, chewing his lip. “Pretty fucked up.”

“You care about that kind of thing?” The question sounds blunt, rude even, but Beth truly doesn’t know.

He was always nice to Buddy whenever he came over, but he never asked what happened to him after their financial situation became dire and they decided it was best he was rehomed. And considering she’s seen how flippant he can be when it comes to the lives of actual human beings, she wouldn’t be wrong to find his concern surprising.

“I like animals,” is all he says.

Yet she doesn’t find it surprising. If anything, it fits right in with Rio’s complicated moral code; protecting the innocent, children and animals included. Beth wonders if he ever thought of her as innocent. She knows the answer to that. Not a fucking chance. He had her pegged the moment he met her. That’s what drew them to each other from the very beginning.

That fact alone is what has Beth constantly questioning whether he ever felt any real, genuine affection towards her, or if he just sensed that shared darkness between them and worked whatever angle he could, started playing that long con the second he realized he could use their connection to manipulate her.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

Rio doesn’t turn his head, just looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Since when do you ask for permission?”

Beth smiles slightly.

It’s true, they both know she’s never bothered with social niceties when it comes to interrogating him, especially now that he actually tends to answer her honestly, something she is not naïve about. She knows this new willingness is another indicator of just how screwed she really is. Because really, what it the point in keeping secrets from her when they both know she isn’t going to be around long enough to share them?

“When did you decide you were going to pin it all on me? Was it always the plan? Or did it just wind up being convenient when the time came?”

Rio peers over at her, raising an eyebrow and shooting her an exasperated look.

“What?” Beth says defensively. “I’m just curious.”

Rio shakes his head and looks back at the TV while he answers her. “It would have never stuck.”

“What does that mean?” she retorts, realizes that she asks him that particular question more than any other.

What does that mean? What did we mean? What did any of it mean? _Please say it meant something._

“Did I take precautions after you ratted me out to the feds? Of course. It would have been stupid not to,” Rio sighs. “But as far as the charges went, once Turner was out of the picture, any idiot would have stepped in and realized you were just a scapegoat and turned their attention back to me. I was just buying some time to get my house in order before that happened.”

“By letting me think I was going to end up in prison?” Beth says slowly.

Rio chuckles a little. “Yeah, yeah… don’t matter anymore though, does it? You certainly had me flipping my game, changing the plan. And honestly? I kind of like this one better. Nearly all the same players, nearly the exact same concept, just much higher stakes and a bigger reward. Go big or go home, isn’t that right ma?”

Beth stares at him. She doesn’t find him remotely amusing.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t gotta tell you nothing. You’re supposed to just follow orders.” That familiar anger starts creeping into his voice.

“But maybe things could have ended differently.”

Doesn’t he understand? Maybe none of this would have ever happened. Maybe she would have never pulled the trigger. Why couldn’t he have just let her in for once?

But Rio disagrees. “Nah, we were always going to end up here darlin’. One way or another.”

Beth thinks about it, remembers the events leading up to that moment. Is he right? His plan still involved her having to kill Turner. Would things really have ended all that differently if he had told her the why before handing her the gun?

Or is Rio talking in a broader sense? Like no matter what either of them did, their violent game of tug of war was always going to end with one tugging harder than the other was willing to pull? Because then yes. He is absolutely right. It was always destined for a painful end.

“It’s late,” she says softly. “I’m going to go to bed. I’ll leave you to your elephants.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just stands from the couch and makes the trip to the kitchen to drop her mug off in the sink like she initially planned, lingering to rinse it of the last remnants of coffee.

She should have just stuck with what she’d been doing and continued to avoid him, she laments. There is no making this better. No good will come from seeking him out for answers. There is no closure with him. She’ll only ever be left disappointed. She needs to just accept her fate, their fate.

If these truly are her last days, then Beth needs to be spending them focused on her family. She needs to make every word count that she shares with Annie and Ruby, needs to make sure her children understand just how important and perfect each one of them are to her, so even once she’s gone, they’ll know without a doubt just how much their mother loved them. She shouldn’t be wasting her time on Rio.

She’s almost finished at the sink, leaving the mug inside to be properly washed tomorrow with the other breakfast dishes, and so lost in her own thoughts that she jumps when she feels him sidle up next to her. She recovers quickly though, turns to glare at him now leaning too closely against the sink beside her.

He’s got the empty plate from the coffee table in his hand, and he reaches across her to place it in the sink next to her freshly rinsed cup. Beth stares at the chocolate smudges on the dish for a good two seconds before she’s rolling her eyes - at him? At herself? And turning the water back on to rinse that too.

“If you had have moved over just a little, I coulda done that myself,” Rio says, nudging her with his hip in emphasis, remaining far too close for her liking.

Beth doesn’t answer, just rolls her eyes again.

She doesn’t know how he can act so relaxed around her. Whenever they’re in the slightest proximity to one another, Beth is set on edge, tension brewing. It’s the only thing she can think about. For Rio it always seems to come in waves, his anger like a tide, ebbing and flowing throughout their interactions, allowing for moments of calm around her. But then he has had more time to adjust to her presence than she has.

Beth can’t help but seek out his smell, the one comforting constant about him. Thinks about papermills and trucks full of firearms. The doorway to her bedroom. She’s never asked, always just assumed. But she’s pretty confident that that day in the kitchen wasn’t the first time he was seeing her face since that night in his loft.

“Ask me.”

Beth looks up at him for a second, surprised by his words and maybe a little confused, before looking back to where she holds the small dish under the steady flow of warm water.

“Ask you what?” she says tiredly.

“Whatever it is that’s got you biting at your lip like that.”

Beth looks back up in time to see the way he licks at his bottom lip, over the same spot she’s currently got her teeth sunk into on her own, subconsciously mirroring her as he stares at her mouth.

Beth releases her lip and his eyes finally meet hers again. She turns the water off, forgetting the plate in the sink as she turns towards him. She’s never been able to help herself around him.

“Was it you who untied me at the papermill?” And there. She’s finally said it. Something that has been haunting her for months.

A wide smile spreads across Rio’s face and he starts to laugh.

Beth glares at him. “So that’s a yes?”

Rio does that annoying thing again where he hums before answering her, enjoying making her wait.

“Yeah. Yeah, that was me,” he says finally, quiet at first before letting out another chuckle. “I told Demon you knew. I could just tell that you knew… Bet you thought you’d finally lost it, huh?”

She nods. “I did,” decides not to detail just how crazy she believed herself to be and what a complete emotional wreck she became over the whole thing.

He seems pleased with himself, like he too had been wondering a similar thing and wanted the confirmation. He’s probably going to go to Demon and brag about how he was right. Though she’s surprised Demon had remained skeptical, she asked him about it enough times, she would have thought he’d have caught on too. But then he never does seem too pleased whenever he finds the two of them together, so maybe that was just his way of trying to delay their inevitable, terrible reunion.

Beth wants to ask Rio what gave it away for him. What was it about her reaction that made him aware that she knew he was the one helping her? But if his answer is anything like hers, she worries this will start to feel far too intimate. She doesn’t want to hear about how good he is at reading her facial expressions, or her body’s reactions to him. Instead she just presses on.

“What about at Hector’s warehouse? Was that you who had me behind the truck?”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” Rio says with another smile, leaning back against the sink and resting his hands either side of him. “Do you know how hard it was for me to keep my mouth shut when you started giving Demon shit?” Another content laugh, his voice sounding oddly fond. “Even in a gun fight you got time for arguing.”

Beth doesn’t share his amusement.

“You hit me over the head,” she reminds him, wanting him to know that none of this impresses her.

“Had to make it look legit.” He shrugs her off, looks away from her, his mood tempering somewhat.

“Yeah, well, obviously not quite legit enough,” Beth says offhandedly, sighing, leaning back against the sink herself.

She’s tired, fading fast. She’s going to need to go to bed soon.

“What does that mean?”

Beth almost laughs at the question. For once he’s asking her rather than the other way around. But then she looks up at his face and realizes that he is genuinely confused. He has no idea that it was him dragging her behind the truck and out of harm’s way that tipped Ace off she was in on it.

Beth only has a second to make a decision. She doesn’t want to explain this to him, have to listen to him get defensive or tell her he regrets it. She’d rather keep this one to herself.

“Nothing, they found me out in the end anyway is all,” she says dismissively. “What about the chardonnay?” she asks, trying to distract him.

It works and Rio’s smiling again. “That wasn’t my fault. I went looking for a drink and found you instead. Thought you’d appreciate the gesture over me following you into that bathroom again.”

Beth doesn’t know how to respond to that.

He’s joking, she knows it, but the air feels like it’s gone thick around them, and the longer she lets the words settle between them, the more she starts to feel a restless kind of nervous.

It makes her think of that night when she thought she was alone in her bedroom. It’s the only thing she has left to ask. Does she even want to know? Not really. Or more she only wants to know if his answer is no, if he tells her he was never there. That way she can die without any added mortification.

“You’re biting your lip again,” he tells her quietly.

Shit. Beth releases her lip, squares her shoulders, tries to find the strength she once convinced herself she possesses.

“You were the one breaking into my condo, weren’t you?” It feels like a safe place to start. “It wasn’t Demon helping himself to my bourbon or leaving files on my kitchen table, in my bedroom. That was you.”

There’s still a hint of a smile on Rio’s face, but he isn’t so openly amused by this question as he was her others.

“I like to show initiative,” he states simply.

“How often?”

“Didn’t count.”

“Ever do it while I was home?”

“Not on purpose.”

“But you did do it?”

“Yeah.”

Beth lets out a frustrated breath. She doesn’t know how to say it, doesn’t know if she should just leave this one alone.

Rio just eyes her calmly and she can tell he knows she’s trying to get at something in particular, says as much. “If you got something specific in mind Elizabeth, just ask.”

She stares at him, resists biting at her lip again as she tries to find the words. But her cheeks are already flushing red and if it turns out he has no idea what she’s talking about then it’s going to be just as humiliating than if he does. She can’t bring herself to say it.

“It’s nothing. Just forget it. I’m just tired. I should really get to bed.” Beth sighs to herself, disappointed that she can’t ask or that she cares enough to try.

She goes to push herself away from the counter, call it a night and pretend like this conversation never happened, but then all of a sudden he’s right in front of her, so close she nearly bumps into his chest, forcing her to lean back into the sink again in order to avoid pressing herself against him.

His hands come out to rest at the sink either side of her, nearly touching her hips, effectively barricading her in. He’s so close she can feel his breath on her lips when he whispers to her.

“What were you thinking about?”

Beth’s lips part and she feels her stomach drop. He knew exactly what she was trying to ask the whole time. He was there. He saw her. She starts spiraling somewhere between endless shame and immeasurable anger.

“You had no right,” her voice too is a whisper, shaking around the edges.

Rio smiles, rocks back and forth on his feet as he leans over so they’re eye to eye.

“Not like I planned it,” he says, eyeing her mouth. “You came home earlier than I expected. Didn’t even notice me in the corner of the living room. Just started pulling off your clothes, dropping them on the floor one by one as you made your way to the bedroom, like a trail of breadcrumbs. And what can I say mama? I got curious. I followed.”

“Wasn’t a fucking invitation. I thought I was alone.”

Her cheeks are burning hot and her bottom lip is starting to tremble and she bows her head in order to avoid having to look at him.

“Oh come on Elizabeth, don’t get shy now.” Rio pitches his head even lower in order to catch her eyes again. “So what I saw you with a hand in your panties? You forget I’ve had my mouth between those thighs?”

Beth can’t help the way heat pools between them in response, Rio taking the opportunity to lower his gaze and focus on the spot where her thighs would meet hidden beneath her t-shirt.

No, she definitely didn’t forget that, but that’s what makes this so much worse – his mouth was one of the things she was thinking about at the time. She’s terrified he already knows that too.

When he looks back up at her she meets his gaze, openly stares at him in a way she hasn’t allowed herself to since he walked back into her life, and it’s like Rio wasn’t expecting it. Beth can’t read him like he can read her, but she sees it when something changes in his expression as they stare into each other’s eyes.

He doesn’t soften, there’s no smile or longing gaze, if anything he’s back to being angry. But something has sobered him, and he is searching her face with a furious intensity.

She keeps her eyes on his, but she feels it when he lifts a hand from the counter beside her, his jaw clenching as a clasped fist comes up to her pale face, a single pinky outstretched as he reaches for her.

Beth knows what he’s about to do, these motions so familiar and instinctive between them. So it surprises even her when without really consciously making the decision, her own hand shoots out and wraps around his wrist, stopping him before he can make contact with her skin.

“Don't,” she whispers.

Rio’s wide eyes bore into her, shocked, truly shocked that she won’t let him do this simple thing. But she can’t let him. She won’t. It meant something to her back then, she doesn’t want who they are now twisting and distorting it into something different.

Rio pulls his wrist from her grasp like it burns, her fingers sliding against his skin. Even that small contact alone is enough to feel like too much. Going forward she makes a mental note that she needs to stop touching him. Or he needs to stop touching her. Either way, from now on, hands need to be kept to themselves.

Rio backs away from her slowly, that same dumbfounded expression on his face, before walking away and sitting himself back down on the couch, eyes firmly back on the television.

Beth feels like she’s slipping again. She doesn’t understand it, can’t work out why he’s so angry, wonders if it’s even directed at her. He shouldn’t want to touch her. She tried to kill him. He should be the one telling her to back off.

But everything is just so messed up now, Rio included. She doesn’t recognize who they are when they’re together. It’s this awful, disfigured back and forth, somehow resembling what they used to have but only serving to stain those memories irrevocably.

“Rio?” she calls out his name and she isn’t even sure why.

He doesn’t look at her, but she can tell by the way he tenses his jaw and the slight tilt of his head that he’s listening.

She walks over to him, stands in front of the couch so he has no choice but to look at her. There is one more thing she’s been wanting to say. She feels like she’s said it to everyone else except him. Turner. Demon. He should hear it too.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Rio doesn’t say anything but his eyes suddenly find hers again.

“Those last few weeks, I felt like I didn’t know you anymore, like I never really did and everything up until that point had all just been a part of some calculated plan. That you’d just been playing me that whole time. And then the FBI started closing in and Turner kept showing up and I didn’t know what to do… and then you kidnapped me and gave me the gun.” Her lips trembling and her eyes are filling with tears but she’s determined not to cry. “I was just scared. I was scared of you, and I was angry, and I couldn’t do what you were asking and I didn’t want to make that choice but… it just happened. I’m sorry.”

It’s not a good apology, and an even poorer excuse, but then she’s not trying to excuse what she did. She just wants him to understand that this wasn’t something she wanted, that she regrets it, that if she could take it back, she would. That she is truly sorry.

Rio’s nodding, sliding his tongue along his teeth, something sharp in his expression.

“Tell me something Elizabeth,” he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he peers up at her. “Are you still scared of me?”

Beth doesn’t hesitate, she nods, the movement causing a tear to slip free and down her cheek. She doesn’t try and hide it this time.

“And do you think I’m playin’ you now when I tell you I’m gonna put a bullet in you?”

Beth shakes her head. Another tear falls.

Rio narrows his eyes at her for a moment, looking her over, considering, before letting an ugly smile stretch its way across her face.

“Good,” he says, pointed and cruel, the smile leaving his face and turning cold as he leans back against the couch comfortably.

He’s no longer looking at her, he’s looking over her shoulder, to the section of the television screen he can still see behind her. He’s just dismissed her, Beth knows it, but it takes her a few seconds before she can process it.

This is okay, she tells herself. Whether it changes anything or not, whether he gives a shit about her anymore or not, at least he knows. At least he knows that she never wanted any of it to happen. At least he knows that despite what he thinks, she never wanted them to end up here.

She starts walking towards the hallway, passing by him on his right, glancing at his face one more time as she does. And then she doesn’t know why but – “You were in my dreams.”

She’s at least got some semblance of self-control that she manages to use past tense, but other than that she has no idea why she’s just revealed that to him.

Maybe for that closure she was hoping for earlier. She might not be able to get it from him by asking him for answers, but she might be able to get it for herself by offering something of her own. She’s been bottling all this up for over a year now, refused to talk about him or tell anybody what was really going on despite constantly verging on a nervous breakdown. Maybe she just needs to get this off her chest in order to find some peace. And he may as well be the one to tell. He’s at the center of it all anyway.

Rio lets out a deep and audible breath, shakes his head. Beth wonders if he might be trying to hold himself together too. He reluctantly turns his head to look at her.

“That’s the guilt. That’s what it does to you. Haunts those who deserve it.”

“They weren’t always haunting,” Beth hears herself saying to him softly. “Sometimes I think I just missed you.”

Beth sees it when his mouth presses into a thin line and his nostrils flare, the way his hands curl into fists at his sides, clenching so hard there’s a slight tremor.

“Can’t say the same,” he manages to hiss back.

He is angry at her for telling him, angry at her for meaning it.

“I know,” she says, tells herself that’s okay too.

She keeps moving this time, down the hallway and to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and not worrying about whether or not it stays that way. He isn’t going to come looking for her. Not for a long time now.

She falls asleep relatively quickly, exhaustion setting in the moment her head hits the pillow. If she thought finally talking about them was going to do anything for her nightmares, she wakes up the next morning knowing she was achingly wrong.

He’s still in her dreams, his mouth between her thighs, but this time she’s the one holding the golden gun, and that feels so much worse. But she gets up in the morning and cheerfully greets Demon in the kitchen like none of it ever even happened. After all, the mind can get used to almost anything if it has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Is the dog's name Buddy or did Beth just call him that like 'hey buddy'? I don't know. I couldn't remember and it felt like a lot of work to go back and find out.  
> \- Next chapter's going to have the goods. That's a promise.  
> \- And thank you for all the support. I really really appreciate it. I enjoy writing but it honestly makes it all worth it to know you guys are enjoying it too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Long time no see. I'm really sorry for how long this took me. I had some writer's block in the beginning and it just had me struggling to find a rhythm. I just kept hating everything. BUT! Good news. We are finally beta'd! That's right. The wonderful (and extremely talented, I'm a huge fan it's kinda wild she's helping me out) fortunehasgivenup beta'd this chapter for me so all kudos go to her.
> 
> This chapter is extraordinarily long but I feel like you guys deserve it for the equally long wait. But a couple of warnings: there is some violence involving guns, used in certain ways that people may find triggering. As well as some themes that touch on suicidal type thoughts. So please be aware of that before you read. Other than that, please enjoy, I'm excited to hear people's thoughts.

The events leading up to Beth sitting pretty at a hotel bar in a figure-hugging red dress with a bag full of money at her feet and the rapt attention of a high-profile coke dealer are complicated and start on a Tuesday.

She has just got off the phone with Annie and Ruby when Demon first broaches the subject with her, finding her smiling and in a relatively good mood after hearing their voices, even if it was only for a short while. They had been telling her their recent news; in order to earn some extra cash, they’ve started hosting Tupperware parties together. 

Beth couldn’t help but laugh as they explained how this latest development came about, something to do with PTA moms and Annie wanting to make a good impression at Sadie’s new school, consequently roping Ruby into it. Apparently, it went really well though; the transition relatively easy for them considering what they were able to achieve with their Secret Shoppers. Not to mention how inspiring Annie can suddenly become in front of an audience, like a motivational speaker, or a cult leader.

Most of the phone call consisted of them bickering back and forth, trying to decide whether they should try and capitalize on their success, and start hosting lingerie parties too. According to Deb, the mother of Sadie’s new friend Max who attended the party and mostly sat back with a glass of wine in hand as she scoffed and rolled her eyes in all the right places at the other snobby women, the lingerie parties bring in a lot more money and the moms go crazy for it.

The prospect of earning a higher commission had Annie all for this new idea, but Ruby was understandably reluctant, not wanting to have to spend entire evenings discussing skimpy underwear with a bunch of rabid, rich housewives. Her words. 

Both kept trying to convince Beth to be the deciding vote and take their side, but she had just laughed them off, finding the whole thing amusing. At least up until Annie pointed out that Beth needed to weigh in on this since she’d eventually be a part of it, already assuming her older sister would resume her role as their unofficial leader and join them in their hosting duties once she was back. Beth didn’t correct her, just told them to take the money.

 “Are you hungry?” Beth asks Demon, returning the phone to him and walking back into the kitchen, looking through the pantry cupboards. “I was thinking of making pasta.”

“Yeah,” Demon sighs. “Whatever. Sounds good.”

His voice is dismissive, unenthusiastic. It catches Beth off-guard. 

Between Demon and Cisco, Demon has always been the politer of the two, more considerate, more helpful. Not that Cisco is rude, if anything he is sweeter, more childlike in nature, but sometimes unaware and unable to read the temperature of the room beyond where his interests lie at the time. 

Demon is just more sensitive to the feelings of those around him, more in tune with other people’s emotions. He’s the only person she’s ever seen capable of reading Rio, a skill she knows can’t be boiled down to simple familiarity from working so closely with him. He’s got an instinct for it, he knows people.

So his tone surprises her, seems out of character, but then he has been a bit out of it from the moment he walked in the door today, distracted, seemingly preoccupied with his own thoughts. Beth hadn’t thought anything of it, aware that there are other things going on behind the scenes that don’t involve her, that the world does still turn beyond these apartment walls. But she can’t say she appreciates the flippant attitude.

She turns on him, ready to give him the same kind of lecture she gives Kenny about how unless he’s going to offer to cook something himself, he’s going to eat what she makes him and say thank you. But then she notices how his brow furrows and his lips purse and she realizes that whatever it is that has him so distracted, it’s troubling him and might have more to do with her than she initially thought.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

They’re friends. Or they resemble something similar. She knows his loyalties will always remain tethered to Rio and that whatever future orders he eventually gives him, Demon will undoubtedly follow. But they respect each other, they’ve bonded throughout their time together, both before and after Rio’s reappearance. So she feels like she can ask him this and he’ll answer her as honestly as he can.

Demon himself appears surprised by the question, pulled suddenly from his thoughts and wearing an expression on his face like he’s just been caught out, obviously thinking he had been doing a better job at keeping his worries to himself.

“You’ve been acting weird all day,” Beth explains. “Just tell me what it is and get it over with. I mean, it honestly can’t be that bad considering why we’re all here.”

Demon huffs out something Beth wants to describe as a chuckle, but Demon’s always so stoic that even his laugh sounds kind of threatening.

“Rio’s got a job for you,” he eventually says, sobering once again. “Wants you to do a drop for him.”

Beth blinks at him slowly, convinced she must have heard him wrong. “I’m sorry, what?”

Demon sighs and takes in a deep breath, obviously unhappy to be the bearer of such news. 

“We need you to do a drop,” he repeats.

Beth shakes her head. “What are you talking about? That doesn’t even make sense. Why on earth would he need me to do something like that? I’m not here by choice, remember? Letting me out to do a drop seems like the exact kind of thing he wouldn’t want me anywhere near.”

She’s suspicious. There is no way Rio is suddenly trusting her to do a job for him. She fears this may be a set-up, that maybe they’re luring her out to some abandoned warehouse to finally get rid of her. 

But then that wouldn’t really require much luring, one of them just has to pull a gun on her and march her downstairs and they could take her anywhere they wanted. Demon doesn’t really need to make up some story about a job when Rio’s been so openly honest about her fate since the beginning.

“Hey, I know, I know,” Demon says, hands out in front of him and fingers splayed in a placating manner. “It’s not exactly my favorite plan either, but we need a stand-in.”

“A stand-in? What the hell do you need a stand-in for?”

“Two reasons. First, one of Hector’s main suppliers that we’ve been quietly working wants to meet with the boss face-to-face. So far, we’ve been using proxies to communicate with him, you know, ‘cause we don’t exactly trust people knowing Rio’s alive just yet. But we can’t refuse if we want him to go with us over Hector. So, we need someone to show up and like, be a boss.”

“And everyone already thinks I’m behind this anyway, so this would just confirm it,” Beth supplies.

Demon nods, seemingly relieved that Beth understands why it is that they are asking her to do this for them.

“And the second reason?” Beth prompts.

“Hector’s starting to ask questions about you.”

Beth can’t help the way the fear creeps in whenever someone mentions Hector and her. She already knows it’s a fact that he’s on the hunt for her right now, knows that in all honesty, Rio is the one she should be more concerned about considering her current situation, but there’s something about Hector that it is just so unnerving. She tries to quash it down.

“What kind of questions?” she asks, voice surprisingly neutral.

“He doesn’t quite believe a suburban housewife managed to pull something as complicated as this off all on her own, been wondering if you may have had help. It’s why Rio started using your phone when setting up meets, allowing it to be traced back to you. But now, coupled with the fact no one’s seen you in weeks, Hector’s convinced there has to be someone else, and whoever it is had you taken out in order to keep things quiet.”

“Which is pretty much entirely accurate. We just haven’t got to that last part yet,” Beth states morbidly.

Sometimes she can do that. Just say it all matter-of-fact, separate herself from the reality of it, like it’s just some abstract concept taking place somewhere else to a distant future Beth. But then of course there are those other times, where she feels like she’s going to choke from trying to swallow down the emotional weight of it.

“Look, we knew we couldn’t play him forever. Hector is gonna figure all this out eventually,” Demon says, sounding frustrated. “We just need it to be when Rio’s ready to pull the trigger. We’re still in negotiations with some of his partners and we don’t want this leading to an all-out turf war before we can settle everything.”

Beth already knows why Rio wants her around as a distraction, he explained it to her himself. But to risk letting her back out into the world to attend a meeting with one of Hector’s suppliers? That just seems like overkill. Unless…

“There’s a way this could be traced back to Rio, isn’t there?”

That is the only reason she can think of that would explain Rio going for a high-risk plan such as this. Hector’s focused on looking into Beth at the moment, which means there is a definite possibility there are other investigative avenues he’s overlooking in favor of her that could shine the spotlight on Rio.

“If Hector were to ask the right questions, press the right people. Yes, we’ve got some loose ends,” Demon answers, sounding somewhat reluctant for the first time.

Beth nods in return. “Is he worried?”

And why does she sound genuinely concerned? She resists the urge to roll her eyes at herself.

“If Hector finds out sooner than planned, we can deal with it. But it’s not ideal.” 

Beth lets out a sigh, shaking her head at herself.

“Tell me what I need to do.”

Demon takes a seat on one of the stools at the center island and Beth plants herself comfortably next to the sink, sitting on top of the counter opposite him.

“There’s a hotel downtown that one of Hector’s associates owns,” Demon begins. “We’ve already set the deal up with his supplier, you just need to show with the money, grab the product and walk out. Job done.”

“Okay, you make it sound easy, but how am I meant to pull this off? I don’t know anything about the deal you’re trying to make with him. You don’t expect me to just bluff my way through this, do you?”

Demon shakes his head. “He won’t be asking for details. You’ll be meeting at the hotel’s bar and he’s not gonna want to be seen out in the open with you like that for long. He’ll try and get this over and done with as quickly as possible. Remember, he’s afraid of Hector just as much as you are. He won’t wanna risk him finding out he’s making deals behind his back.”

“But aren’t I doing this so Hector finds out I’m alive and well and still pulling strings? Isn’t that the whole point?”

“Yeah, it is,” Demon answers, clasping his hands together on the counter in front of him and watching her with a patience Rio can never spare. “Which is exactly why we’re going to let word get back to him that one of his main suppliers is cutting deals with an unknown. Then he’ll make his associate pull the security tapes, see you in action, buying us a little more time.”

“Okay,” Beth says slowly, trying to make sure she’s following this properly. ““But won’t that put his supplier in the firing line, exposing his disloyalty like that? I thought you wanted his support?”

Demon nods, understanding her confusion.

“Sometimes to speed things up you gotta force a few hands. Once Hector finds out he’s been making deals with you, he’ll have to side with us.”

Great, she’s helping to set this guy up too. Against Hector.

“Who is he?”

“Name is Vincent DeLuca, deals in coke.”

Beth has come far since her early days. If someone had have told her back then that she was helping to set up a coke dealer, she’d probably have thought he deserved it. But now? Hell, if they hadn’t had that very bloody falling out, for all she knows Rio would have staged this takeover anyway and she’d be happily calling this DeLuca guy a coworker for as long as she was getting paid. So that information doesn’t make her feel any better about what Rio is asking her to do.

They both stay quiet for a moment, Beth trying to take it all in, going through the motions of Rio’s proposed plan in her head while Demon just lets her work through it.

“Why isn’t Rio here telling me this?” Beth asks, suddenly concerned by his absence. 

This is something he’d usually be all over, telling her off for asking too many questions, being as vague as possible just to get under her skin.

Demon shifts uncomfortably in his seat and gives her a sheepish look.

“Oh,” Beth breathes out, feeling suddenly dejected at the realization. “Let me guess, it’s because he didn’t want to be here and would rather not have to deal with my drama.”

Demon’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “That was almost word for word.”

Beth doesn’t sigh, tries not to feel disappointed. She should have guessed. Isn’t this what she wanted anyway? For him to leave her alone?

“When do you want me to do it?” she asks instead.

“Friday night.”

Beth nods in understanding before- “And what day is it now?”

In her defense, when all the days are the same, blurring together the longer she stays cooped up in this tiny apartment with little to do, it’s easy to lose track. This isn’t her fault. It’s gotten to the point where behind all these burning questions about the drop with DeLuca, there is actually a very large part of her excited by the idea of being able to go out and breathe some fresh air again. 

“Tuesday.”

“Tuesday,” Beth repeats, nodding again. “So we’ve got three days.”

“Plenty of time to prepare,” Demon says, finishing her thought for her, but she can’t tell if he’s just saying that to make her feel better.

It doesn’t matter though. She doesn’t have a choice.

Beth forces herself to smile. “Let’s get to work then."

***

Demon spends the next three days preparing Beth as much as he possibly can for her meeting with DeLuca, giving her enough information to satisfy any questions that may be thrown her way, as well as a general rundown of how the meeting itself should go.

It’s pretty straightforward. They’ll be switching bags, her handing over the money, DeLuca handing over the product. There may be small talk in between, which again, Beth thinks she’ll be able to navigate easily. Their deal is a simple enough concept; they want DeLuca to start supplying to them, cutting out Hector. If he agrees, DeLuca will receive a higher cut than what Hector’s currently offering, and the money she’s to give him Friday night is just a taste of the profit. It doesn’t really get any simpler than that, than money. Beth understands money.

DeLuca himself apparently isn’t known to be particularly violent, though Demon is sure to remind her that doesn’t mean he can’t be. But as far as reputations go, he’s often reasonable, sensibly cautious - hence his hesitancy to side against Hector – and although a bit of a Lothario, doesn’t go looking for trouble if there’s none to be found.

She’s still incredibly nervous. There’s a difference between being able to successfully stumble her way through a drop, and convincing an established drug dealer that she’s an experienced crime boss worth trusting with moving his product.

Friday night feels like it comes too quickly, Beth a barrel of nerves for the entirety of the day. She showers too early, puts on her make-up and does her best to tame the wild curls forming in her hair due to the lack of dryer or any styling products, then finds herself just sitting on her bed with a towel wrapped around her, staring at tonight’s outfit.

The make-up came yesterday courtesy of Demon, along with a new dress to wear and a set of heels. She’s got to look the part too, Demon had reminded her when she looked at the offending garments with wide, horrified eyes.

While the hotel they’re meeting at isn’t particularly upscale, apparently it’s nice enough that her sweatpants and tee look just isn’t going to cut it. Nor are those playful summer dresses she’s still yet to touch. So instead, Beth has been tasked with slipping into a red, form-fitting dress and a matching pair of red, strappy heels that are much higher than any she’s ever owned before. 

Demon hadn’t said anything more as he handed over the items, but she knew he wasn’t the driving force behind such a bold choice in ensemble.

When Beth finally works up the courage to put the dress on, it’s at least an hour before the time Demon had told her they would be leaving. But she doesn’t want to risk anyone (Rio) arriving before she’s ready (clothed). 

She knows it fits because she did try it on the night before, and she knows she can walk in the shoes because she also spent a good deal of time this morning practicing in the apartment with Cisco at her side (just in case, he had said), but it’s just so far away from anything that she’d ever think to wear that she finds it hard to feel even remotely comfortable.

The dress is actually quite beautiful. It’s a simple design, slightly corseted at the waist, hugging her curves perfectly and finishing just below the knee. The v neckline however, dips low enough to allow ample cleavage to show. And it’s the main source of her discomfort. 

It’s not exactly the dress’ fault, unless she’s wearing a turtleneck or one of her coveted button-ups, the slightest bit of cleavage on her is always more attention-grabbing than that of say, her smaller busted sister. It’s just how it’s always been ever since she was fourteen and puberty hit her hard and heavy. But at least the straps of the dress are thick enough that she doesn’t feel like she’s falling out of it, the corseted waist and built in cups comfortably supporting her where she needs it.

Beth looks herself up and down in the bathroom mirror. It’s not bad. But it’s not great. Her curls aren’t as neat as she’d usually keep them, falling around her face in tendrils, and she has to keep tucking the hair behind her ears in order to combat it.

She’s paler than usual too, the make-up given to her consisting of only a light powder, mascara and a red lipstick. That’s what happens when a gangbanger who has zero experience with make-up is asked to purchase it on behalf of his favorite hostage. 

She’s always had an even enough skin tone that she’s never needed a lot of coverage and so is trying to make it work, but even she can see the powder is doing very little to hide the red flush of nerves residing high up on her cheekbones.  She’ll just pretend it’s blush and hope it fades by the time she meets up with DeLuca.

All in all, she looks okay. Tired, but okay. The dress complements her figure and even if she has skipped over some of her usual beauty steps that she’d typically follow when preparing for an evening out, the dress does make up for some of it. 

Beth hides out in her bedroom for as long as possible, finally relenting when she overhears multiple voices emanating from the kitchen. She doesn’t actually know if Rio is going to be here tonight, she’s sort of just assumed that he will be, probably wanting to go over any last-minute details with her before she leaves. 

So it comes as quite a shock when she steps out into the living room, tense and anticipating another run-in with Rio, that the first person she sees at the kitchen island is a complete stranger.

He’s the first one to spot her entrance too, Demon and Cisco standing next to him but focused on each other as they talk quietly. He’s younger than her, younger than Rio, mid-twenties probably, with dusty brown hair, a too skinny, pale frame clad in black jeans and a button-up that doesn’t sit nearly as well on him as it does on Rio, looking all in all quite underwhelming beside her brutish companions. 

It doesn’t stop him from eyeing her eagerly though, too eagerly, letting out a low whistle that has her pausing in her movements and gaining the attention of the other men in the room.

“Jesus Christ!” he lets out. “Where did you guys find her?”

Beth finds the comment more embarrassing than anything else. This kid can’t be older than thirty. She’s probably twice his age. She appreciates it when she sees Cisco reach out and punch him in the arm.

“Ow, what? I’m just saying-“

“Shut up Joey,” Demon says, before looking at her and giving her an encouraging nod to beckon her closer.

The kid, Joey, keeps smiling at her all lecherous though, even biting at his lip as she continues her approach. It isn’t until she sees him glance at someone out of view in the kitchen that his smile disappears from his face and he suddenly finds the floor far more interesting, and it’s enough to let her know that yes, Rio is indeed here.

Beth finds one of her arms coming across her body to clasp at the wrist of her opposite hand, not really doing much to cover herself up, but also doing enough to make her feel somewhat less exposed without it being obvious that’s what she’s purposely trying to do.

She doesn’t glance in Rio’s direction once she enters the kitchen, stays next to the counter close to where Joey, Demon and Cisco stand, but she knows his eyes are on her, can almost feel them trailing over her skin as he takes in the sight of her in the dress he’d bought.

“Joey, is it?” Beth asks, extending her hand. “Beth. Nice to meet you.”

She’s doing it simply for something to do. She doesn’t feel like acknowledging Rio just yet, so why not be polite to the kid in the meantime? Only problem is, he keeps glancing at Rio worriedly like he now needs his permission to touch her.

A quick smack upside the head from Demon finally has him reaching forward and shaking her hand. Beth gives him a half smile before pulling her hand back, trying to seem casual as she moves over to the fridge behind her, eyes still avoiding Rio.

“So, Joey, I assume you’re here to help out with the drop tonight?” Beth asks as she pulls a bottle of water from the shelf on the door, not particularly thirsty, but again, trying to find something to do.

Beth watches him as she takes a swig from the bottle, a little too aggressively as she tries to force her hand steady and mistakes moving with speed for being smooth, some sloshing over the lip and dribbling down her face before she can even get a mouthful. 

She is mortified when she feels it trail down and drip off the end of her dimpled chin, falling onto her right breast. But she is quick to raise a hand and catch it before it can slide down any further and dampen the material of her dress.

Embarrassed, she looks up to see Joey is just staring at her hand where it presses against the swell of her chest, a dumb expression on his face and his mouth hanging wide open. Cisco has zero reaction, bless him, he’s just smiling at her oblivious to the awkward nature of her fumble. And Demon just rolls his eyes and is smacking Joey again.

No one’s saying anything and she finally, reluctantly, levels her eyes over at Rio, moving her hand as she does so and quickly swiping at her chin to get rid of the last remnants of water. 

At first Rio just meets her gaze, his expression unreadable as per usual, but it’s like at the exact same moment she registers the cool air hitting the still damp skin of her chest, causing the slightest of shivers, her nipples tightening beneath the fabric of her dress, Rio’s eyes are sliding over her and purposely following that wet trail down.

Fuck, she is so bad at this. Honestly, how hard is it for her to keep it together for one night? She was trying to come across as cool and confident. Instead she’s missing her mouth and pouring water down her boobs like she’s trying to draw attention to the reason she’s so damn uncomfortable in the first place.

She tries to picture Annie and Ruby here. Imagines Ruby giving her an encouraging ‘damn girl,’ or Annie making really weird and inappropriate comments about motorboating her or something just as horrific. God, she misses that little freak. She always knows how to boost her up. Beth could always find confidence around Annie, she thinks partly because as her older sister, she wanted to be brave for the both of them.

She remembers screaming when she found Rio in her house for the first time. Then she remembers how she found her voice and did all the talking when she had her baby sister and oldest friend at her side. If they were here, she wouldn’t be crumbling in front of him again.

She takes in a deep breath, ignores the way Rio still eyes her heaving chest.

“Well?” she asks again, trying to remember the Beth that called Rio an idiot as Demon pressed a gun to her temple (which she does not now think back on affectionately). “Is he coming to meet DeLuca with us or not?”

Rio isn’t smiling at her, but she can see the amusement flickering in his eyes as he continues looking her over, finally pushing away from the counter and putting the cup of tea Beth just knew she’d find him with, down next to the sink.

“Not us. Just you,” Rio tells her.

“What do you mean just me?"

She only now just realizes she hadn’t actually got around to asking Demon the logistics of how this would work, who would be taking her. But can she really be blamed for not being a huge fan of logistics right now? 

“Why can’t I go with Demon and Mr. Cisco?” she hears herself ask without thinking. “No offence,” she adds quickly for Joey’s benefit.

Rio gives Demon a look, obviously unimpressed that this wasn’t something he’d already covered with her when they were going over everything the past few days. 

Demon barely reacts, just stares back at him, and again she thinks they’re having some kind of unspoken conversation she can’t decipher, Cisco’s wary look that he casts between them telling her that he thinks so too.

“Demon and Cisco can’t be seen with you, you know that,” Rio eventually answers.

And yes, he’s right. Of course they can’t be seen with her when they’re still pretending to be Hector’s men. She’d just made an assumption without properly thinking it through. She feels stupid. She feels out of practice. 

“But Joey here is a no one,” Rio continues. “No known affiliations. So he’s the one that’s gonna accompany you. Cisco will drive and Demon’ll be with Hector elsewhere making sure he doesn’t hear nothing till we ready for him to listen. Understand?”

“Uh, yeah,” Beth says, clearing her throat. “Okay.”

But it’s not okay. Because without realizing it, the idea of Demon and Cisco being with her throughout this whole charade had been a comforting familiarity she was relying on. They were her safety net. Now what is she supposed to do?

How is she supposed to convince a high-profile coke dealer that she’s a boss bitch behind some grand, evil scheme when she’s got a kid she doesn’t know or trust tagging along with her? He can barely go five minutes without eyeing her tits and she can’t even drink a bottle of water without spilling it all over herself. No one is going to buy this for a second. They’re going to be found out. They’re going to wind up dead.

“Hey, Elizabeth, look at me.” Rio is standing in front of her now and Beth doesn’t know when he got so close. “You good?” he asks, voice low and serious.

Beth hesitates, wants to tell him no, wants to ask him not to make her do this. But then she sees his eyes trail over her face and land on one of her curls that has fallen free and is resting against her cheek. She shifts uncomfortably and tentatively reaches up to tuck it back behind her ear. 

Rio’s eyes fall back to hers, his jaw clenching, his expression turning into something hard and unreachable. It’s like they’ve travelled back in time to their last conversation. He takes a step back and raises his eyebrows at her.

“Well?” he asks, impatient now for her to answer him. 

Beth sighs but is resolute in her answer. “I’m good.”

“Good,” Rio says harshly, staring her down, another echo from their last conversation. “Bag’s already in the car downstairs,” he says dismissively. “Time to go.”

Beth immediately feels her heartrate pick up. Is that really it? Barely a five-minute conversation and then she’s just sent out to play boss for the evening? She wants to ask more questions, go over this one more time. Starting with why the fuck he chose some random kid to go with her and not someone a little more intimidating? 

Or how about why he hadn’t been the one to tell her about the drop in the first place and left it for Demon? And no lame excuses like he didn’t feel like dealing with her. She wants a real reason, an honest reason, one where he tells her he hates her for what she did to him, that all the hurt wasn’t just physical. And if not that, maybe he could answer something much simpler, like what does he think her chances are of surviving tonight?

But he’s got his head down and eyes on his phone already like he couldn’t care less about what’s about to happen, and instead it’s Demon guiding her towards the door and giving her words of encouragement.

“You remember what I said?” he asks.

“Keep it vague, keep it simple. In and out. Easy,” Beth breathes out like a mantra.

Demon nods. “Exactly. You’ll be fine. I’ll have eyes on Hector the whole time.”

Right. That’s good. She’s good. She can do this. She’s had to do worse.

The thought has her giving one last glance towards the kitchen where Rio resides unmoving. He’s still not looking at her, but he’s not looking at his phone now either. He holds it limply in his hands as he stares blankly ahead of him.

She thinks he looks tired, wonders if maybe he is a little worried, her last fleeting thought as she steps out into the hallway. Demon keeps close behind her and Joey leads them to the elevators up front, while Cisco once again stays at her elbow in case she needs the help in her heels. It isn’t necessary though. This might be the last time Beth gets to walk out of this apartment on her own two feet.

She strides down that hallway, chest out, head up.

 ***

Demon parts with them once they are out in the street, jumping in his own car and hightailing it out of there to meet up with Hector before Beth has even had a chance to slide into the backseat of what is most definitely not Cisco’s prized Impala, Joey following and sitting slightly too close next to her.

She rolls her eyes but decides to just ignore him, instead looking out the window and watching as the rundown houses flash by her, kids out on the street, couples holding hands, an old man walking his dog. She can see the reflection of her face in the glass, lit up by streetlights, appearing in the foreground of the world passing her by. She feels a sudden yearning like she’s only just remembering what she’s missing out on.

The drive doesn’t feel long enough, though according to the digital clock on the dashboard that she can spy from her seat, it takes them at least twenty minutes before Cisco’s pulling into the underground parking garage of a respectable looking, but by no means expensive, corner-street hotel. She’s vaguely aware of where they are in terms of what direction she’d need to head in order to make it back to her own neighborhood, but can’t remember ever venturing out this way.

The underground lot is dark and desolate, and Cisco parks close to the elevators for Beth’s benefit, but doesn’t move to get out of the car with Joey when he goes around back to get the bag of cash from the trunk. Probably for the best, the windows are tinted to allow for coverage, and if the place is owned by someone familiar with Hector, there’s probably cameras down here too.

Beth watches Cisco watching Joey in the rearview mirror, sees them nod at each other once Joey’s waiting with black duffle in hand, and takes it as her cue to finally get out of the car too. She’s steeling herself all over again, finding her nerves. She knows the second she’s out of the car, there’s a chance she’s going to have eyes on her. She can’t falter, not from here on out.

Just as her heels hit the concrete pavement, her pale skin contrasting starkly against the blood red of her shoes and dress in front of her, Cisco calls out to her.

“You good, Mrs. B?”

It makes her smile. Both Demon and Cisco call her Mrs. B, even though she hasn’t been a ‘Mrs.’ or a ‘Boland’ for a while now. The question he’s asked is a familiar one, a repetition from Rio earlier, though with a welcoming softness Rio’s was severely lacking.

“I’m good,” she calls back to him, shooting him a wink as he looks back at her over his shoulder, then climbs out and shuts the door behind her.

She smooths her dress out once she’s standing steady, pulling it back into place from where it had scrunched up ever so slightly around her hips from being seated for so long, hopes it doesn’t make her look nervous. Joey watches her as she does it, waits for her to be the one to make a start for the elevators, falling into place behind her.

The elevator ride up to the lobby is quick, and Joey does the same when the doors open again and they exit, waiting for her to step out first before following. He’s keeping up appearances, Beth realizes. He’s treating her the same way Rio’s men treat him, flanking him wherever he goes but never leading. And okay. Beth can work with that. She can be the boss.

She crosses the lobby with confident strides, heading towards what she is relieved to see is a mostly quiet bar, a few patrons huddled together here in there, but no one sitting up at the bar where they had agreed to meet. 

She’s glad they’re here first, gives her a chance to familiarize herself with her exits without having to worry about being discreet. There are only two she can see; the main entrance doors out onto the street from the lobby, or back the way they came in the elevator, down to the basement carpark and Cisco.

Beth slides herself onto one of the barstools as gracefully as she can, Joey coming to stand next to her once she’s settled and placing the bag down by her feet. She’s never met Vincent DeLuca before, so she doesn’t know who she should be looking for. According to Demon this won’t be a problem, DeLuca will know how to recognize her. He wouldn’t go any further into detail about what that means, but she still glances around the bar idly, looking to see if anyone is trying to catch her eye. 

“Can I get you anything?”

Beth whips back around and looks up surprised to see the bartender smiling friendly at her. She had forgotten this was an actual functioning bar and not just some front for their nefarious dealings. 

She begins to shake her head and say no, thinking it would be best to keep a clear head for the meeting, but on the other hand she’s also been dying for a bourbon. All the apartment’s got is a cheap bottle of vodka she has so far resisted touching.

Fuck it. One can’t hurt, and if anything, it might actually settle her nerves a bit. So instead she finds herself nodding yes, ordering her bourbon, on the rocks of course, telling the bartender Joey will be taking care of the bill.

Joey huffs out a laugh, but searches his pockets to drop the money down on the bar next to her, not really able to argue at the moment considering she is playing the big bad boss and him her loyal soldier.

Beth’s halfway through her drink when she feels someone slip onto the stool next to her. If it weren’t for the fact she had left him at the apartment earlier, she’d almost expect to turn and find Rio sitting next to her with how familiar the situation feels.

Instead she’s met with a very different kind of man. European if she had to guess, his thick, dark hair perfectly slicked back and out of his face, a pair of golden brown eyes already staring into her own, and a perfectly trimmed beard framing the wide smirk currently stretching its way across his face. His athletic build is enveloped in a tightly fitted, slimline grey suit with a fresh white shirt underneath, and a light grey tie adorns his neck to finish off the overall impressive look. 

She doesn’t know what she was expecting when she tried to picture DeLuca, but this isn’t it. He’s handsome in that clean-cut, cutthroat lawyer kind of way, Rolex watch on his wrist and the smell of some kind of expensive aftershave permeating her senses.

She glances behind him and sees he’s brought his own set of Joeys, two of them, big and burly, dressed neatly in black suits and outweighing her own poor excuse for muscle easily. They stay standing to the right of him, on the other side to where Beth is sitting. She tries not to let their presence unsettle her.

“DeLuca,” she acknowledges with a nod of her head.

“Beth Boland.”

He says her name in full, all too knowingly. Beth just smiles, aware that her name is no longer her own. The rumor mill has been turning. It’s out of her hands. Rio’s made sure of that. Her name is going to be known in quite a few unsavory circles now.

He looks her over slowly, contemplating something, clearly amused.

“Shit,” DeLuca says, smiling brightly at her, eyes returning to her own. “They really weren’t kidding about you, were they?”

Beth doesn’t let her confusion show, just plays with the glass in her hands, turning it in circles with pale fingers as she holds his gaze, trying to play this cool.

“What’s that?” she asks.

DeLuca bites at his lip and leans closer to her, invading her space in a similar way Rio does.

“Feel like I shouldn’t say, probably getting someone into trouble,” he whispers to her conspiratorially. “But when the message said to look for Jessica Rabbit, I wasn’t expecting to find an actual, real-life Jessica Rabbit waiting for me."

Beth bristles at first, embarrassed, but with the way DeLuca is looking at her appreciatively she can tell he thinks it’s a compliment, and then she’s edging somewhere towards possible flattery.

She wishes she were surprised to learn that this is the description of her Rio decided to feed DeLuca. But all it does is once again make her painfully self-conscious of the prominence of her own breasts, pushing sinfully against the confines of her dress whenever she takes a breath.

Fucking Rio. At least it explains why he chose it. She can’t deny the similarities in his comparison, even if she does find it humiliating that he’s purposely dressed her up as a cartoon character.

Beth doesn’t let her thoughts betray her, keeps her expression neutral before smiling and lifting her glass to her lips to take a welcomed sip of her bourbon.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s underestimated me.”

It comes out teasing and playful, but also weighted with underlying meaning. They both know it’s not just anyone who decides to go up against Hector Ramirez.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he says, eyes caressing her mouth. “With that sweet little doll face, I bet every man you’ve ever met wouldn’t know what hit him until it’s too late.”

Okay, now Beth is most definitely flattered. Despite it being so far from the truth, she likes this version of herself DeLuca is describing. The one where the dowdy, pitiful Beth doesn’t exist, and there is no cheating Dean or a mocking Rio. She’s just a boss bitch playing the game and playing it well. She can’t believe DeLuca’s really buying all this.

“So, Mr. DeLuca,” she begins, trying to emulate the woman he thinks she is. “I’m not seeing any bags. Have you got what I want? Or did I come all the way down here for nothing?”

She’s eager to move this thing along. DeLuca is charming, sure. She understands why he’s got a reputation for the ladies with that easy smile and warm gaze (so different to Rio’s sharp smirk and challenging stare that never fails to draw her in), but she isn’t here for a date, she’s here for business. She can’t afford to stay chatting with him for too long, it will only increase the risk of being caught out in a lie.

“Please, call me Vincent, sweetheart.”

Yet DeLuca is evidently not as eager to get down to business. A fact she finds concerning considering how adamant Demon had been that he’d want to make their meeting a brief one, his fear of Hector ample motivation and all. But Deluca doesn’t seem worried. If anything, he seems relaxed, happy.

“Vincent,” Beth says sweetly instead. “Where’s the product?”

Beth feels Joey shift behind her, and she’s actually glad for the reminder that he’s there, clearly becoming a little anxious to move things along too.

DeLuca smiles at her again, moves a hand to rest on the back of her stool. His expression is friendly enough, but there’s a paranoid, foreboding feeling starting to prickle its way up her spine.

“It’s upstairs in my hotel room.”

He must see the way Beth’s eyes widen in alarm at the implication of his words, because he suddenly sinks back into his chair, shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s not like that,” he says, laughing at himself like he’s only now just realized how that must have sounded. “I’m a cautious man. I’m used to abandoned warehouses and dark back alleys. It was simply a precautionary measure, and I’m sure as someone who keeps herself so often hidden in the shadows, you’d understand my concerns conducting business out in the open so publicly like this.”

Beth does understand his concerns, but since the whole point of this meeting is so DeLuca and Beth can be seen on camera making a clear exchange, it does present quite the predicament for her.

“I do understand,” Beth tells him honestly, trying to think on her feet. “But since I was so willing to leave the shadows, as you so eloquently put it, to meet up with you,” she glances down a little just so she can look back up at him through long lashes. “I think you could make an exception for me, just this once. How about you have one of your boys over there go up and fetch it for us while we share a drink? What do you say?"

Beth hasn’t tried to seduce someone since high school when she thought Dean was the bee’s knees and wanted to keep him interested and secure him as her boyfriend. Even when she was desperate to get Rio into her panties, she wasn’t so much seductive as she was blatant. But she is trying to seduce DeLuca right now, trying to manipulate him. 

She is so going to get both herself and Joey shot.

“As tempting as that is,” DeLuca sighs. “I must insist we do this behind closed doors. I know you must think me paranoid, but I’m not one for risks.”

Beth chews at her lip, unsure of herself. This could still work. Even if they don’t have them switching bags on camera, she’s sure seeing her exit DeLuca’s hotel room with a different bag than she had been carrying when she entered will be enough evidence to convince Hector Beth’s aligned herself with one of his suppliers.

“Alright, fine,” she eventually agrees. “We will do this in your hotel room. But I can’t say I appreciate the last-minute change in location, even if it is only moving this to a different floor.”

She’s trying to channel Rio here. He wouldn’t put up with this. Any real crime boss would find such a deliberate change in an already agreed upon plan a clear sign of disrespect. If it were Rio, he probably wouldn’t even relent, would force DeLuca to bring his product down to him or just call the whole thing off, a real power move. But as it is, Beth doesn’t really know what else she’s supposed to do, she and Demon never talked about a scenario like this. 

“Well even if you don’t, I do really appreciate it. You’re making a nervous man less so. I won’t forget it,” DeLuca tells her. “Though I’m not going to lie, the idea of getting you alone in a hotel room is more than a little appealing.”

“Alone? Joey will be coming with me,” Beth says at the same time DeLuca slides off his stool and stands up next to her.

He doesn’t answer her at first, just reaches a hand out towards her, politely waiting for her to take hold. But Beth plants her heels firmly on the ground and stands herself up next to him without the assistance.

“I’ll be leaving my boys down here too,” DeLuca informs her. “Consider it a trust-building exercise. Because if we’re going to be business partners, I want there to be trust.”

Their chests are almost touching, a consequence of their change in positions and how close DeLuca had been standing to her stool. Beth uses it as an opportunity to size him up, to glare at him now that they’re at the same eye level. He may be bulkier than Rio, but he’s not as tall as him.

“Oh come on, I’d hate something so trivial to ruin months of negotiations,” DeLuca says in response to her stare.

And just as Beth feels herself starting to give in, convinced that Rio would be angrier at her for ruining his plans over putting herself in harm’s way, Joey is suddenly stepping in and piping up.

“She said no,” he snipes at him. “You’re not going anywhere alone with her.”

“Excuse me?” DeLuca says, looking over at him and turning away from Beth to face him. 

She can tell DeLuca is genuinely surprised by the outburst, not used to talking muscle. But Joey doesn’t take the hint.

“You heard me!” he says, his voice rising.

Beth is once again cursing Rio all over again with this kid. He has no idea what he is doing right now, doesn’t seem to sense the danger. Instead, he’s about to take another step toward DeLuca, his chest puffed out and mouth turning into a sneer.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beth catches the movements of DeLuca’s men, their hands starting to disappear into the inside pockets of their suit jackets, their eyes trained on Joey. She just knows they’re reaching for their guns.

“Joey!” she says quickly, snatching everyone’s attention, pushing past DeLuca and stepping in front of him so she’s blocking the kid with her body.

“No need for that,” she says, giving him wide, pleading eyes, begging him to play along. “Let’s not forget our manners. DeLuca has been nothing but accommodating thus far, no reason to start doubting him now.”

And oh god! Has he? She has no fucking idea what she’s talking about. But she has never been more certain in her life that if she doesn’t get things back under control, and fast, this pretense at civility is about to quickly dissolve into carnage.

“Vincent and I won’t be long,” she continues, hating the way Joey eyes her warily. She can tell he thinks it’s a bad idea, is probably even under orders not to leave her side. “You stay here, finish my drink for me.”

Beth backs up a little, bending over to pick up the bag of cash from the floor, before stalking towards the elevators before Joey can argue any further, in what she hopes looks like a clear dismissal.

She hears DeLuca exchanging words with his own men, not immediately catching up to her, but he eventually comes to stand too closely at her side as she waits for the next elevator, already having pushed the button for the upper floors on her way over.

She stares at the way the ‘up’ arrow has lit up on the panel, bright like a beacon, warning her to turn back around, to run. This is a terrible idea. She should not be following him up to his room alone. But she doesn’t have a choice. Joey was just about to get himself shot and if DeLuca really is telling the truth, then they still may be able to salvage this. She can’t just walk away now. Hector needs to see this deal end amicably.

Every part of her being protests when the elevator doors finally slide open and she crosses over the threshold to step inside. She makes sure to stand on the opposite side to DeLuca this time, leaving a substantial amount of space between them and watching in silence as he presses the button for the third floor.

She can’t help but keep glancing at him as they wait to reach their destination, just to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s keeping himself to himself. He is, thank goodness, but every time she looks over at him, she catches him staring.

‘Catches’ is perhaps the wrong word to use considering he isn’t trying to hide it, is examining her openly, probably trying to understand how on earth someone like her got involved with something like this. 

“You really are just like Jessica Rabbit,” he says, turning his body towards her as he leans back against the wall.

Or he’s just staring at her boobs.

Behind his obvious leering, there’s almost a mournful note to his voice that makes Beth uncomfortable, but she’s saved from having to think of a response when the melodic ding of the elevator sounds, letting them know they’ve reached their floor.

He allows her to step out first, but leads her to the right to turn down a long hallway full of identical-looking doors, making it to about halfway before stopping in front of one of them.  Room 307 it reads. Beth makes a mental note just in case.

DeLuca’s hand comes to the small of her back, guiding her to stand directly in front of the door, she thinks probably to let her enter first, another attempt at being the gentleman. But instead of reaching a hand into his pocket for a room key, he’s lifting it to the center of the door and rapping his knuckles against the painted wood.

“I’m sorry about this,” he says. “I truly am.”

Beth looks at him in confusion, is about to voice it too, but then the doors being pulled open from the other side and she’s looking up to find herself face-to-face with someone all too terrifyingly familiar.

A kind of white hot panic hits her, the kind that catches her breath and has her cheeks flushing red as a chilling shiver simultaneously claws its way down her back. Standing inside room 307, very much alive, is none other than Hector’s assumed-to-be-dead, favored right hand man, Ace.

Beth is frozen to the spot, unable to process what she is seeing, but it’s of no matter, because Ace is already grabbing at her waist and roughly pulling her inside the room, slamming her into the wall next to the doorway.

 “Miss me?” he asks, pressing himself tightly against her, hands at her forearms and keeping them trapped uselessly either side of her, flat against the wall.

“No. You can’t be,” Beth hears herself saying, her voice small and frightened and unrecognizable to her own ears. “You’re dead.”

“Surprise!” Ace replies and starts laughing.

Somewhere in the background she can see DeLuca walking over to the bed next to them and placing the black duffle Beth had been carrying down on top of it. She doesn’t even remember dropping it. Or did he pry it from her hands without her even noticing?

DeLuca doesn’t open the bag and check the money, he just leaves it where it is and heads back towards the door.

 “You’ll tell Hector that I did exactly as asked? That I held down my end?” He’s talking to Ace, who is refusing to let his eyes stray from Beth.

“Just get the fuck out DeLuca. Nobody gives a shit about you.”

“We had a deal Ace,” DeLuca growls back at him from the doorway.

Beth glares at him. They had a deal too. Though she supposes she can’t really blame him, he did warn her, told her he was a cautious man that didn’t like taking risks. She just wasn’t listening. And obviously siding against Hector was just too big of one for him.

Ace keeps his hold on Beth, tightens it even, but shifts his glare and fixes it on DeLuca. “You’re lucky you’re not dead already after the shit you pulled. And if you don’t leave now, you fucking will be. Hector will deal with you later; I promise you that, Vincent.”

DeLuca has the awareness to look uneasy at Ace’s words, eyes finally flickering over to Beth, tracking the places where Ace is touching her and keeping her trapped against the wall. A frown briefly passes over his face before he’s looking back up at Ace warily. He lingers for just a moment more, letting out a sigh but ultimately heading out the door, leaving her alone with him.

She almost wants to call out after him, beg him to stay. But it’d be of no use. He sat downstairs flirting with her, convinced her to follow him, all the while knowing Ace was up here waiting for her. He’s not going to help her. He’s made his choice and Beth understands it. She made one just like it.

Once the door closes securely behind him and DeLuca is out of sight, Beth’s eyes, wide and afraid, fall to Ace’s once more.

“We got some unfinished business you and me,” he breathes out at her, smiling.

He’s a hulking figure of a man. Rio may be taller than DeLuca, and DeLuca may carry more pounds than Rio, but Ace is bigger than both of them.

“Please. Don’t. Let me go,” Beth begs, trying her best to pull her arms free from his grasp as tears begin to gather.

“Did you really think it was gonna be that easy to get rid of me?” he teases. “Next time tell your man that if he’s gonna shoot somebody in the chest, be sure to aim for the heart.”

Beth feels a hysterical sob bubbling up in her chest. 

Rio literally pulled the same move she did with him. He shot Ace and left him for dead, without realizing he never got around to the actual dying part. She almost can’t believe it. Rio usually never gets things wrong. It’s so unlike him to make a mistake.

A horrible thought occurs to her; maybe the reason it’s so unlike him is because he hasn’t made one, that perhaps this is all on purpose and Rio knew Ace would be here. But no, he wouldn’t. Would he?

Beth continues to fight back, yanking at her arms, trying to loosen Ace’s hold on her, something he clearly finds frustrating because next minute he’s doing the job for her, letting her go as his right hand instead comes up to grab her by the throat, while the left disappears somewhere behind him.

“Quit your squirming,” he grits out, and then his hand reappears to reveal his gun, and he’s digging it into the underside of her jaw roughly.

The fingers wrapped around her neck tighten as he presses the cold metal harder against her skin, stilling any further movements and forcing her to look up at him. She can’t help but let out a whimper of pain and feels sick at his responding groan of approval.

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs.

His eyes leave hers, making a quick appraisal of her body, before the hand at her neck is releasing its hold and lowering. He lets his fingers drag over her collarbone, outline the edge of her breast, before coming to a stop over her ribs. His large hand spans her waist, wrapping around the curves of her and squeezing. The bruise is no longer there, but Beth finds it no less distressing.

“You’ve become quite the troublemaker of late, haven’t you?” Ace muses, his grip on her not letting up. “Been running all over town starting real problems for us. Even had me chasing after you, trying to clean them up. But playtime’s over. I think it’s about time you and I finish that little chat we started so long ago now, get to know each other all over again. What do you say?”

He’s mocking her, voice full of cruel sarcasm.

“Fuck you,” is all Beth spits back at him. She knows how this ends, knows what’s about to happen whether she plays nice or not. So she’s opting for not.

Ace smiles at her, his gun moving up and over her chin, pressing against her lips and smearing her lipstick, forcing them open until she’s got the barrel in her mouth, the taste of metal on her tongue.

“Listen here bitch,” Ace starts, voice still calm despite the anger she can feel simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re going to talk whether you like it or not. And I honestly prefer if we do this the hard way. So keep it up. Go on. What else you got to say?”

She couldn’t answer even if she wanted to and he knows it. He pushes the gun further into her mouth, straining her jaw and forcing her to gag on it. He lets her choke for a moment or two, enjoying watching her struggle, and when he finally does relent and pulls back just that little bit, she’s quickly turning her head away from him, dislodging the gun from her mouth and attempting to hide her face in her shoulder. 

Her eyes are blurring with tears but through her foggy vision she can see the bedside table next to her, the heavy ceramic lamp sitting atop of it just out of arm’s reach. She flashes back to hitting Boomer over the head with a bottle of bourbon.

If she could get Ace to loosen his grip on her long enough, there’s a chance she may be able to reach out and get ahold of the lamp, use it as a weapon and crack him over the head with it, hopefully rendering him unconscious. But she can’t see how she’s going to be able to do that. Unless he himself brings her closer to the bed. The thought makes her shudder.

Ace has got his mouth pressed against her ear now, the gun lowering between them, not forgotten in his hand, but no longer pointed at her. Instead it’s aiming towards the ground as he holds it casually at his side, preoccupied with running his mouth off.

“Ain’t no one saving you this time,” he says, and Beth tries to recoil in revulsion when she feels his spit-slick lips brush against the shell of her ear, hot breath assaulting her neck. “No gunman bursting through the door to do the dirty work for you. Just you and me. But don’t worry, I’m under strict orders not to kill you. Hector’ll want to see you first. We’re just gonna have a little fun."

He squeezes at her ribs again, hard enough to hurt this time, to bruise. It’s like foreplay to him, getting him excited before the real torture can begin.

He obviously doesn’t know that Rio was her gunman. He would have said so if he did. A part of Beth is relieved. Even though she is overwhelmingly angry at Rio for putting her in this position right now, she needs him to remain ahead of the game. Hector can’t be the one to win this. He just can’t be.

Ace is right though, there is no way Rio’s coming to save her, not again, not after everything that’s been said. But the mention of him does give her an idea.

He said that her gunman came in and shot him in the chest, which means Ace still has a somewhat fresh gunshot wound he’s carrying. So far, he hasn’t shown her any indication that he is still in pain, but there is just no way, despite the weeks that have passed, that he has fully recovered. A bullet hole doesn’t heal the same way a bruise does. Hers may have faded, but he’s still got to be tender.

She isn’t sure where on his chest it is though, what side. She could try and just frantically paw at him and hope she finds it before he grabs at her again, but she’s only got one shot at this, doesn’t want to waste it. He’s right handed. Beth remembers that from all the punches. Yet, he reached back to grab his gun with his left, still has it in his left. 

If she had to make an educated guess, and she does have to, she’d say the reason he could be avoiding using his dominant hand is because Rio got him in the right side of his chest and he can’t twist that way at the moment without pulling at his wound. It’s a leap, but it’s the best and only theory she’s got.

Beth takes in a steadying breath, eyes the lamp out of the corner of her eye as she prepares herself. Ace still has his face pressed against her, up so close that she’s hoping he won’t register what she’s doing until it’s too late.

She raises her left hand quickly, fingers immediately finding Ace’s right pectoral muscle and latching on tightly, sharp nails clawing at him and digging in deep, moving desperately over his skin until she can find what she thinks may feel like a bandage and sinking in.

The cry Ace lets out satisfies something deep within her, but she doesn’t have time to dwell on that, because as Ace reflexively recoils away from her, she’s letting go to quickly dart to the left and grab at the lamp, not stopping her fluid motions as she raises it over her head, and brings it crashing down over his.

The lamp’s heavy base shatters on impact and Ace falls to the ground, limp and disoriented, but not unconscious. He’s groaning, there’s blood, and his eyes are fluttering open and closed in a dizzying rhythm. Beth doesn’t have time to hesitate as she goes for his gun, pulling it none too gently from his grasp and darting for the door.

Beth glances back at him as she’s opening it, making sure he’s still down, when her eyes catch on the black bag still sitting unopened on the bed. Ace is going to gather his bearings soon, she doesn’t suspect it will be long before his back on his feet and after her, but she still decides to backtrack and grab the bag from the bed. 

She has to step over him to get to it, accidentally kicking him in her rush. Not that she’s sorry about it, and purposely does it again on the way back once she has the cash safely in hand. Ace barely reacts, still letting out low groans of pain every few seconds.

Beth’s out the door and running down the hallway after that, struggling to keep pace in her heels, off balance as she holds the gun and the bag in the same white-knuckled fist so there’s somewhat of a chance people won’t notice she’s carrying a weapon if they were to glance her way.

She turns the corner without looking to head for the elevators, but has to halt mid-stride and quickly slink back into the hallway when she spots DeLuca pacing in front of them, phone pressed to his ear and seemingly arguing, though quietly, with whoever it is on the other end of the line.

Good, Beth thinks. It means he hasn’t made it back downstairs to Joey yet. Though that doesn’t mean his men hadn’t already been told to take care of him the second she left. But still, Beth isn’t going to leave without even trying to help him. He is just a kid after all.

Beth puts the bag down at her feet and waits for DeLuca to complete his lap back toward her and turn around again. She’s had Rio and Ace do this to her before, she knows how effective it can be. And so, while not wanting to shoot him but with no other weapon, she quickly sneaks up behind DeLuca and hits him over the head with the butt of the gun.

She’s almost surprised when he falls to the floor motionlessly, successfully knocked out. Based on her track record with Boomer and Ace, she thought she was maybe going to have to swing a few more times. But nope, he’s out for the count. If Beth weren’t still so terrified, she’d be rather impressed with herself. One out of two ain’t half bad.

Beth strides over to the elevator, hitting the button to go back down and making the quick journey back into the hallway to grab the duffle, before starting the inevitable and horrible task of waiting. She keeps her back to the wall opposite the hallway as she does so, eyes on DeLuca sprawled out in front of her, and ready if Ace is to come running round the corner, keeping the gun tight in her fist.

But DeLuca doesn’t budge and Ace is nowhere to be seen, at least not until the elevator has arrived and she’s standing inside and the doors are closing. That’s when he comes stumbling out, unsteady on his feet, too far away to make it to the doors in time. Beth is sure to flip him off before he loses sight of her.

Despite the cocky display, her nerves are shot and she’s close to wits’ end as the elevator takes her back down to the lobby. She can still feel Ace’s lips at her ear as she thinks about the small window of time she has to get her and Joey out of there. She knows once she’s out of the elevator that Ace will be beckoning it back up to the third floor. She just has to hope Joey is still at the bar and will know how to handle DeLuca’s men before Ace makes his way down.

Beth does her usual, takes in a deep breath to center herself as the elevator doors once again begin to pull open, then she’s taking off into the lobby and coming to stand at the open entrance to the bar.

"Joey!” she screams, spotting him on the stool she had been sitting on, DeLuca’s men on either side of him.

All three look up at Beth at the same time and she doesn’t say anything more, just looks at Joey with panicked eyes and hopes he understands.

Joey is smaller than the two men, but his reaction time is much quicker. He spins in his seat, grabbing Beth’s abandoned glass of bourbon and cracking it over the head of the one sitting closest to the entrance, while simultaneously shoving the other in the stomach, so he’s falling backwards off the stool and landing flat on his ass on the floor. 

It’s the only head start Joey needs before he’s sprinting towards her, pulling his phone from his pocket as he goes and pulling at Beth’s arm with his free hand to guide her towards the exit. 

At the same time they’re hitting the street, Beth hears her name being yelled and is looking back over her shoulder in horror to see Ace bursting into the lobby through the clearly marked stairwell door she had failed to notice. 

“Joey, it’s Ace! He’s coming!”

Beth doesn’t even know if Joey knows who Ace is, but paired with the sound of gunfire that follows her shouting, she thinks it’s enough of an explanation. 

She’s not sure whose gun he has, maybe DeLuca’s? Beth didn’t check if he was armed before she left him K.O’d on the floor, just another mistake she’s made tonight. Though it could be DeLuca’s men squeezing off bullets. Either way, she’s not slowing down to find out. She’s already having a hard time running in her shoes, and Joey is practically dragging her along as he yells into his phone frantically.

“Yo, it’s me! Meet us out front now! The deal’s gone south!"

It feels like the longest few seconds of her life as they run toward the parking garage, finally finding cover within its walls, Joey tugging her along, further into the dark. Cisco’s nowhere to be seen and for a panicked second she thinks maybe he’s abandoned them, but then the echoing sound of gunfire gives way to the deafening squeal of tires, and he’s suddenly pulling up in front of them, window down and yelling at them to get in.

Joey immediately flings the back door open and pushes Beth into the backseat, slamming the door behind her once she’s safely inside, and then flinging himself into the passenger seat next to Cisco, banging on the dashboard.

“Drive! Drive!” he yells.

Cisco doesn’t hesitate, he puts his foot on the gas, flooring it, tearing out of the parking garage and taking off down the street at high speed. She notices Joey in front of her, twisting in his seat to stare at the fading scene behind them, but doesn’t move to join him. She keeps her eyes facing forward and tries not to cry.

***

Beth thinks she might be in shock. It wouldn’t be surprising. For the second time in a matter of weeks someone she was convinced was dead has shown back up in her life very much alive and with every intention of killing her. She doesn’t know how to process it.

Cisco’s asking her what happened, but her mouth runs dry and she can’t bring herself to say it, can only listen as Joey intervenes on her behalf. He explains the events leading up to Beth accompanying DeLuca upstairs alone, and then the events that followed when she made it back down, but he’s obviously unable to fill in the blanks in between. 

Cisco turns in his seat when they’re stopped at a light, gently tries to press her for more information, but all she can manage is “Ace, it was Ace.” She won’t elaborate further, but it’s enough. Cisco has his phone pressed to his ear within seconds.

His voice is like a distant murmur, one she can’t decipher. He might be calling Rio first to tell him what went down. Or maybe it’s Demon on the phone, and he’s trying to find out if he’s heard anything about it from Hector. Either way, Beth doesn’t care. She feels sick. She’s got spit on her skin from the press of Ace’s slimy lips against her ear, there’s lipstick smudged across her face from the drag of his gun, and there’s an ache in her jaw from how he forced her to choke on it. She just wants to crawl out of her skin.

Joey breaks Beth from her daze when he pulls her door open, Cisco already standing outside of the car and waiting with his phone jammed against his ear. She hadn’t even noticed the car pulling to a stop or the boys getting out. She was too busy wishing she were somewhere else.

Joey is gentle with her, grabbing the bag of cash from where she’d balanced it on her lap and holding the door open for her so she can climb out. He’s surprisingly patient as he moves, careful not to touch her. She wonders if he can sense her distress.

Beth is slow in her movements, almost in a trance-like state as she trudges behind them into the building and over to the elevator. They pile in together in silence, Joey coming to stand in between Cisco and her. Cisco’s no longer on the phone, but still no one says anything. And despite Joey shooting Beth a playful smile, there’s a nervous energy winding its way between them.

She knows it’s the anticipation. Rio’s most certainly waiting upstairs for them right now, and he’s going to want answers. What happened wasn’t her fault. Beth knows that. The deal had turned sour long before she showed up at that hotel bar. But she can’t shake the feeling that she failed him somehow. Maybe that’s why Cisco and Joey are so quiet, maybe they think so too.

Beth is the last one inside once they reach the apartment, half-hidden behind Joey but immediately able to spot Rio pacing by the kitchen table. He looks up at the sound of them entering, glare already in place, and the three of them fall silently into line beside each other, ready for the onslaught.

“What the fuck happened?” Rio asks, voice low and rough and dangerous.

“It was a set-up,” Cisco explains, surprisingly calm despite Rio’s obvious anger. “DeLuca must have talked. Ace was there waiting for her.”

“Fuck,” Rio hisses, running a hand down his face. “That son of a bitch. I knew he was a coward.”

Beth wants to argue. Not about the coward part. Maybe DeLuca is, maybe he isn’t. But considering they too were trying to set DeLuca up and expose him as a traitor to force him into a business partnership, she doesn’t really feel Rio can be too angry that he beat them to the punch. 

“How did we not know about Ace?” Rio continues. “Has Demon heard anything?”

He looks frustrated but calm. He’s got that furrow in his brow that tells her he’s already calculating his next move. This is just a setback to him. Nothing more, nothing less.

Cisco shakes his head. “Nah, nothing. And Hector’s going about business as usual.” 

“Old man must be getting paranoid and keeping things on a need-to-know basis. Means he knows he still gotta problem in-house,” Rio says. “Demon’s gonna need to lay low for a while. What’s Hector got him doing right now?”

Beth stays silent as they go back and forth, quietly watching Rio as he gives Cisco a new set of instructions to combat this latest development. They almost died and just like Cisco had said — Rio’s all business as usual. She shouldn’t be surprised, violence has always played a major role in his line of work. But he won’t even look at her, hasn’t so much as glanced her way since she walked in.

This is all just chess to him. It’s a game of strategy and patience and trying to remain four moves ahead. It’s about winning. And Rio has made it clear that Beth is no king. She isn’t even a queen. She’s a pawn; easily expendable and the first to be sacrificed. She may as well not even be here.

The sound of Joey’s nervous voice breaks through her rapidly deteriorating thoughts and has her tuning back into the conversation.

“We had to keep up appearances, she ordered me to stay downstairs at the bar. I couldn’t argue,” he says as Rio continues to stare him down. For a kid who was stupid enough to mouth off at DeLuca, he seems to be smart enough to know when to cower around Rio.

The second she walked away from Joey to follow DeLuca upstairs alone, they both knew it was a mistake. But he’s right, this isn’t his fault. She was the one who caved to DeLuca and left Joey with no choice but to play along. 

Beth thinks this is the moment when Rio will finally turn to her. That this is when he’s finally going to look at her and ask her to explain herself and acknowledge what he put her through by forcing her to agree to this meet. 

But he doesn’t. He just continues to ignore her while interrogating Joey and Cisco. 

This is when the shock starts to give way to the anger. The numbness that had been following her ever since Ace got his hands on her again, finally releases its hold.

Why isn’t he asking her what happened? She was the one who was dragged into that hotel room with Ace and DeLuca. She was the one who was slammed into a wall and had a gun pressed into her mouth so hard she can still hear the sound the metal made knocking against her teeth. If he really wants to know what happened tonight, then he should be asking her, not them.

“What’s the status of Ace now?” Rio asks.

“Alive,” Cisco reports. “He was on foot chasing after them when I pulled up, but I got everyone out of there before anything could happen.”

“And DeLuca?”

There’s a beat of silence and Beth actually feels it when both Joey and Cisco’s eyes fall on her. Because yes, finally! It’s a question they can’t answer. Neither of them know what happened to DeLuca. He never made it back down to the bar before they were hightailing it out of there. For all they know she could have put a bullet in him before she came running out into that lobby.

Beth’s eyes haven’t strayed from Rio since the moment she walked into the apartment, and just like that, _finally_ , he’s meeting her gaze. It feels like a relief.

He’s got an eyebrow quirked, staring at her expectantly, apathetic and self-assured. There’s nothing in his expression that indicates to her he’s at all remorseful over what happened, nothing to tell her that he so much as notices the ruined lipstick staining her mouth. But then he does a quick sweep of her, eyes flickering up and down, lingering on her left hand, and suddenly his whole demeanor changes. 

His body goes rigid as he straightens up to full height. His arms that were folded over his chest come to rest at his sides as his hands curl in on themselves and ball into tight fists. There’s a hard set to his jaw, one she’s seen before, but doesn’t understand in this moment, and his eyes remain carefully fixed to hers as he finally puts a question to her. 

You wanna tell me whose gun that is, Elizabeth?”

Beth is slow to process his words. It’s not the question she was expecting and she feels like she’s back in that confusing daze as she breaks his stare to glance down at the hand his eyes had lingered on. 

Her fingers tighten around the handle reflexively when she sees what he’s talking about, and it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room; Beth is still holding Ace’s gun. 

Everything had happened so fast and in all the commotion she had forgotten she had it, the cold metal becoming a simple extension of herself as she ran from stray bullets. Then once it was over and she was in the car and the shock had kicked in, it had remained firmly in her grasp without much thought.

Joey hadn’t noticed it when he took the bag from her, he’d come from the opposite side, not spotting it tucked against her thigh. Even Cisco had been so preoccupied on the phone and then eager to get inside, he hadn’t stopped to take stock of her. Maybe everyone was in a little bit of shock. It’s not every day people seemingly rise from the dead (present company excluded).

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the way Joey and Cisco shift next to her, no longer standing shoulder-to-shoulder, distancing themselves and turning to face her warily. She won’t look at Cisco. She already knows what he looks like when she’s got a gun on him. She doesn’t want to see the disappointment on his face.

She hadn’t planned this. If she had been in her right mind she would have ditched the gun downstairs ages ago, palmed it off to Cisco or left it in the car. But it’s too late now. She’s here, and the gun is in her hand and Rio is finally giving her his full attention. 

She should just explain to him what had happened, apologize for the mistake, hand over the gun. But she doesn’t.

“You said Ace was dead.” 

Her voice sounds far away from her, too light, too calm. The shock definitely hasn’t worn off. Or maybe it’s the anger, or the leftover adrenaline. Whatever it is, it’s keeping the fear at bay.

“Thought he was,” Rio answers, eyeing her carefully.

Beth so wants to believe him, so wishes she could believe that Rio would never purposely hand her over to Ace or Hector. But despite how closely she studies him, she just can’t read him.

He lies to her all the time. Everything is always some sort of complicated manipulation that she doesn’t understand until much later. Even after witnessing him very clearly asking Cisco whether Demon knew about Ace, she still can’t shake the creeping doubt. Rio is always four moves ahead. He always knows. How could he not have known this?

There’s something snapping within Beth, her last grasp on sanity slipping. She just wants this to be over.

“Tell them to leave,” she says, a demand, not a request.

She needs him open, she needs him honest, and she’ll only get that if he’s alone. She doesn’t have time for whatever bravado he wants to put on in front of his boys.  What’s about to happen next is between them.

Rio glances over at Cisco and Joey, but remains silent. And although she keeps the gun lowered at her side, she does shift it in her grip just that little bit, can tell when he catches the movement. 

He doesn’t falter though, only narrows his eyes as he gives her a long, hard, considering stare.

He’s weighing his options, making up his mind. But while evidently cautious, he doesn’t seem frightened of her – a relief to Beth. She may want him to comply but she doesn’t want him thinking her capable of pulling the trigger. Not again.

He nods his head at her once he’s made his decision, glancing over at Cisco and Joey again but this time indicating the door with the slight raise of his chin. It’s the subtlest of movements, but Joey and Cisco react immediately.

Beth sees them disappear from her periphery, Joey hesitating long enough to put the bag on the counter before following Cisco. She doesn’t dare take her eyes off of Rio as they leave, just listens to the door opening and the finality of it closing behind them.

Silence rings out in the apartment, the two of them watching each other, unmoving. 

Rio is waiting for her, she can tell. And not in his usual mocking way where he watches in amusement as she sweats it out trying to come up with something to say. No, this is different. This is him letting her take the lead because for once, he is the one unable to read her. He doesn’t know what she’s thinking right now, what she wants out of this. And he’s just waiting for her to let him know so he can respond accordingly. 

Beth obliges.

“Did you do it on purpose?” she starts.

Her voice is still calm but it sounds stronger this time, more present.

“Do what?”

“Did you send me on that drop knowing Ace was there waiting for me?”

Rio bites at his lip. He seems angry, same way he always is when she repeats a question. The fact she’s holding the gun though, seems to be keeping his temper in check.

“I already told you,” he grits out, purposely slow, over-compensating for his lack of any real patience. “I didn’t even know he was still breathing till Cisco called.”

“How did you not know? You were the one who shot him.” The frustration bleeds into her words and the gun inadvertently trembles in her hand.

Rio takes in a deep breath, looking away from her for a second to gather himself before answering. 

She wonders just how hard it must be for him to be in the same room as her right now, to be standing here again, so close while she holds a gun.

“Elizabeth, you may have been there but you were out cold that night. You have no clue what went down,” Rio growls at her. “What would even be the point of me setting you up like that anyhow? What’s that do for me?”

“I don’t know Rio! I never know!” She’s yelling at him now. “But who’s to say you haven’t flipped your game already and made a deal with Hector? Anything’s possible. To him? I’m just a rat. To you? I’m a logistics issue. I wouldn’t put it past either of you to use me as a bargaining chip!”

There’s a part of her that knows she’s being irrational right now, already knows that Rio would never bow to Hector after coming this far. But for some reason she can’t seem to stop herself. Not now that she’s come this far too.

Rio tenses at her words, glares at her, but doesn’t bite back like she thinks he will. He just watches her calmly, lets the silence stretch out between them as his eyes carefully search her face, before he asks,

“What you gonna do with that gun, Elizabeth?”

Beth almost wants to laugh, but it’d probably be bordering on sobbing.

“Me?” she asks, shaking her head at him. “No, I’m not going to do anything. You are.”

Rio is still standing next to the table where he had been pacing before they came in, so it’s easy for Beth to take a step forward, place the gun down on the table, and slide it across the wooden surface over to him.

Rio picks it up, slowly but surely, without looking away from her, clearly confused at the sudden role reversal. The parallels to the night he went to her house after she had ratted him out are not lost on him. But he is struggling to understand the meaning. 

“I don’t want it to be Ace,” Beth states clearly. “And I can’t stand the waiting anymore. I just can’t. It’s like being stuck in purgatory. It’s cruel. I want you to do it now.”

The startled look of shock on Rio’s face is the most expressive she’s ever seen him. Even when she shot him in the chest he didn’t look this surprised. Even when she pulled him into her bed and let him come inside her he hadn’t looked this exposed.

 “What?”

Beth swallows slowly, tries to remain calm.

She really hadn’t planned any of this, doesn’t even know herself when she decided this is what she wanted. Maybe somewhere between Ace shoving the gun in her mouth and Rio refusing to look at her.

“I did what you asked. Hector will see me in that hotel footage and it’ll buy you more time to do whatever it is you need to do just like you wanted. But I’m done. I’m not going to help you again, no matter how you threaten me. So, you need to just get this over with. It’s time.”

She swears Rio looks speechless for a second, his lips parting but no words able to come out. But he recovers too quickly, sharp teeth clenching as he hisses back at her and allows his anger to be the only emotion on display.

“You trying to call my bluff, ma? You think I won’t?”

His voice is loud, his face is screwed up and the glare he’s giving her seems real enough, but there’s just something off about his tone that isn’t quite selling it. Not that Beth is capable of noticing, she’s too focused on her own anger now, allowing it to envelope her too.

“Well you haven’t been able to so far!” Beth yells at him. “And if you keep sending me out there, dangling me in front of them like a piece of fucking bait, Hector and Ace are going to beat you to it! So just do it already!”

Beth means every word; the fear of that actually happening is so terrifyingly real that she’d prefer it sooner rather than later.

“Don’t blame this Hector thing on me!” Rio shouts back at her. “You’re the one that got his attention, you’re the one that went to the feds! That’s on you!”

“Fuck you!” And she is gone, lost in anger. His words reminding her too much of that night when she was crying and screaming and he told her everything that happened was all on her then too. “I may have done those things but  _you_ are the one that exposed what I was to Hector and put us both on the clock! That was your fuck up! You!”

Rio is mid-inhale, ready to spit something cutting back at her, when confusion clouds his features and he suddenly just deflates, his anger forgotten as he stares at her, bewildered.

“What are you talking about?”

Beth’s own anger doesn’t dissipate quite as quickly as Rio’s does, and it takes her a few solid seconds before she realizes she just let something slip she shouldn’t have. 

She hadn’t wanted to tell him about that. She didn’t want to know his reaction. But it’s too late now, she can’t take it back and she knows Rio will be able to tell if she tries to lie about it. So while reluctant, she decides to answer him honestly.

“Ace pulled the surveillance tapes from the warehouse, from the night when you stole Hector’s guns,” Beth starts, her voice back to being quiet and unsure. “He worked out that we weren’t…” Beth stumbles over her words. “That you weren’t there to keep me from intervening, that instead you were there to… you know.”

She doesn’t say to keep her safe, she won’t say it. She just lets her sentence peter out for him to fill in the blanks. He was there, he knows the rest anyway.

Rio doesn’t say anything, his tongue poking out to swipe at the corner of his lip and head tilting to the side curiously. He’s still staring at her but she can tell his focus is somewhere else; his eyes blinking rapidly as he puts together the missing pieces of a puzzle.

He really hadn’t known how Hector found out she was the rotten egg. Beth supposes he’d probably just assumed it was either something she did, or something Turner did. But he never once suspected he was the one slipping up, that it was something he did. 

So he does make mistakes, Beth reasons. And maybe he truly didn’t know about Ace either. But why do his mistakes always have to involve her?

His silence starts to make her uncomfortable. It seems she didn’t have to worry about what his reaction would be; he’s having none at all. She tries to find that confidence that was guiding her earlier and bring the conversation back to its original topic; the gun, and more importantly, what she wants him to do with it.

“Well?” she tries, her voice sounding more exasperated than anything else. “Are you going to do it or not?”

She gestures with a hand towards where Rio still holds the offending weapon, tries to stare him down the way she had been so determinedly earlier. But it’s of no use. Both of them sobered the minute she brought up the role he played in Hector finding her out, and Rio’s only response is to purposefully remove the magazine from the gun.

He doesn’t break eye contact with her as he further dismantles it, taking it apart with a practiced ease and placing the individual parts on the table next to him. She could put it back together if she wanted to, he’s the one that showed her how. But she accepts the act for what it is and knows this is his final answer.

She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to feel. Relieved? Grateful that she isn’t dead yet? 

When she told him that she couldn’t do it anymore, she meant it. And this isn’t the first time since any of it started that she has found herself wishing the end would come sooner; the knowledge that Ace is still alive and out to get her only worsening the feeling.

But did she really want him to go through with it? Or was it a bluff just like he said? She doesn’t know. And that scares her.

A tear slips out and Beth wipes at her eyes, her shoulders falling and the sudden feeling of complete exhaustion overwhelming her. She’s always just so tired.

Rio takes a step closer to her, leaving the gun in pieces behind him. Something has shifted in him again. There’s anger there, always is, but he’s got that carefully crafted, neutral expression back on his face. The one he puts on when he’s trying to remain unaffected.

He takes another step towards her, one arm behind his back and the other bent at the elbow, hand up in front of him, rubbing the pads of his thumb and index finger back and forth against each other. As Beth eyes him tearfully, trying to figure out what his next move is going to be, she notices something red on those two fingers, something that looks a lot like lipstick.

Her eyes flicker over to the barrel of the gun he’d just been handling and she feels sick all over again; it is lipstick. It’s her lipstick.

Rio comes to a stop in front of her, close enough she has to look up at him.

“Who smudged your lipstick, Elizabeth?”

And really? Fucking really? Now he’s asking? After everything that just happened? That’s what he cares about?

“Are you serious?” Beth nearly cries out in disbelief.

“Who did it?” Rio repeats, still rubbing it between his fingers.

“What does it fucking matter who did it?” Beth asks sadly, desperately. “What difference does it make if I say it was Ace? Or DeLuca? Or fucking Joey? I’m dead anyway.”

She starts crying freely now, tears streaming down her face. 

Rio doesn’t argue with her. 

“Then tell me anyway,” he practically whispers.

Beth sniffs, looks down at her aching feet and those stupid red heels he picked out for her, before looking back up at him.

“Tell me something first,” she requests. “How will you do it when the time comes? Will you shoot me in the head? Or three bullets to the chest like I did to you? Really make it even.”

Rio doesn’t recoil at the question like she thinks he will, just tilts his head up a little to peer down at her through narrowed eyes with a solemn expression. Though her predictions do prove correct in his refusal to answer, his mouth remaining firmly closed in an unimpressed, pursed line. 

So Beth doesn’t attempt to answer his question either. She just walks off towards her bedroom, shaking her head as she goes.

***

Once inside her room and away from Rio, she immediately heads for the bathroom. All she can think about is the way Ace pressed himself against her and his lips at her ear and the lipstick he smeared across her face. 

She has the water running in seconds.

She bends over the sink, dampening a cloth and scrubbing at her ear, rubbing at her cheeks, rinsing out her mouth and repeating the process all over again, the ends of her hair becoming wet from the onslaught. 

It doesn’t feel like enough; she wants to do more. But she doesn’t have any facewash and although she’s not above using hand soap, her eyes are already stinging from her running mascara.

She rests her hands on the sink, leaning against them heavily and looking up in the mirror to inspect the damage. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are looking worse than they had started out, now surrounded with crumbling black mascara that’s managed to streak its way down her face. There are still remnants of lipstick around her mouth too, and her hair hangs wet and lifeless, sticking to her skin, water dripping from limp curls and rolling down her chest.

She just standing there, stock-still and staring at her ruined face in the mirror, when she sees Rio slip into the bathroom behind her.

She had thought he would have left by now.

He doesn’t try and approach her, stays on the opposite side of the small room behind her, but it still has her swallowing nervously. It’s all too eerily similar; her face reminiscent of the night she shot him, yet everything else too close to that night they first slept together. She’s sure he must notice it too.

“You really are a glutton for punishment,” she tells him, not yet turning around but watching him in the mirror.

“I wasn’t done talking,” he replies, shrugging, all calm and cool now.

“I don’t know what else there is to say.”

Rio nods as if he agrees with her, before gently saying, “Tell me what happened in that hotel room.”

Beth feels herself tense at the request, but tries to cover it up by turning the water back on and putting her hands under the stream. Some of the lipstick had transferred onto her fingers when she had been swiping at her face, so she busies herself with trying to get it off as she answers him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s done.” She doesn’t look at him.

“It does matter,” he says, voice just as soft as before, but she can tell it’s a struggle, that he’s still frustrated.

“No, it doesn’t,” she stresses, her own voice straining at the edges. “I got your money back for you and you don’t need me to tell you DeLuca is alive. I’m sure Demon or Cisco could’ve found that out for you. So just go already.”

She’s trying to get rid of him. Rio doesn’t like that.

“Elizabeth, tell me what happened,” he bites back, unable to control his flaring temper. 

“What do you think happened?” she snaps, flinging the water off and whipping around to face him. “Once DeLuca was able to get over the fact I was dressed up like his very own Jessica Rabbit, he took me upstairs to his room. And when we got there, I was greeted by Ace at the door,” she’s panting, her voice raised, “grabbing at me, and threatening me, and sticking his fucking gun in my mouth.”

Rio stares at her, eyes wide and wild. And there’s a dangerous clench to his jaw that she doesn’t want to read into.

“Then what?” he prompts, voice low and full of gravel.

Beth shrugs, annoyed that more tears are falling down her cheeks and annoyed that he’s making her talk about this.

“Then I shoved my fingers in his bullet wound,” she says like she didn’t find the whole thing traumatizing. “And cracked a lamp over his head. And then made a run for it, grabbing your money before I left and knocking DeLuca out on the way back down for Joey.”

A slight twitch of Rio’s lips lets her know that he is somewhat impressed with this part of her story. But all that does is further upset her; it’s not impressive to her, it doesn’t make up for what she had to endure. Or how it fucked her up so much that mere minutes ago, she was asking Rio to get it over and done with and shoot her already.

“Is that it?” he asks, voice giving nothing away.

“Yes, that’s it,” she confirms. “You now know everything. There’s nothing more to tell. Which I guess means you should probably be sending Cisco back in and heading out now. Turner’s going to catch wind of this sooner or later and you know he’ll be seeking you out for answers.”

Rio nods and she thinks now he will finally leave her alone. She’s holding on by a mere thread here. But he doesn’t; he stays, watching. 

So Beth decides to be the one to break away first, turning back towards the sink and reaching for the cloth, scrubbing at her face again, roughly this time, trying to erase the memory of the way Ace and his gun had felt.

“Hey, stop,” she hears him call gently from behind her, but she’s determined to ignore him, just continues scrubbing.

“Elizabeth, stop,” he says again, closer this time, and she swears he sounds worried.

But before she has a chance to react to that, the warm weight of his hand presses against the bare skin of her shoulder and pulls at her. And it acts like the pulling of a trigger as Beth spins around, wrenching away from him.

“Do not touch me!” she cries, truly startled by the contact.

Rio holds his hands out in surprise and is opening his mouth to say something, but she beats him to it.

“This is your fault,” she says to him, her chest heaving from months, possibly years of repressed emotion. “This is on you!”

She thinks he’ll react aggressively at the accusation, match her anger, but Rio just shakes his head, the minutest of movements.

“It’s on both of us, mami,” Rio says. “It’s you and me.”

It’s the most honest answer he’s ever given her, but she doesn’t find it comforting. He could just be trying to placate her. She doesn’t know. She never knows. She’s never known him.

“I wish I never met you.” It slips out through trembling lips.

Rio just nods, like he truly does understand, like maybe he feels the same way, and takes a step towards her.

“No,” she says, stopping him quickly. “No. Just get out.”

And while Rio does stop, he doesn’t leave.

“Elizabeth-“

“No!” she says again, but she doesn’t know what she’s protesting anymore.

Maybe all of it. All of him. Everything they’ve ever been to each other.

She’s panting at him, wet hair falling in her eyes, feeling just as small and weak as she did when Ace had her cornered.

Rio notices her hair of course, and whether he’s forgotten or it’s out of habit or he just wants to, he makes the mistake of reaching a hand out to her. But Beth is in no state for that. As soon as she clocks the movement she’s shoving at his hand before it can make contact. And then she’s just shoving at him all together.

“Get out!” she’s saying as she pushes at him. “Just leave!”

At first Rio just takes it, lets her get it out of her system. Letting her crash into him like an unstoppable force meeting an immoveable object. But too soon her name is leaving his lips like a dark warning.

“Elizabeth!  _Elizabeth!_ “

But Beth is lost in emotion, erratic in her movements, not paying particular attention to where her hands push against him. And all it takes is her right hand striking just that little bit higher on his chest, palm flat and fingers splayed, and suddenly she’s pressing against what’s leftover of the bullet wounds she put in him.

It’s like pulling a trigger of his own. 

Rio’s eyes are suddenly alight and he’s catching her wrists in his hands, ripping them away from his chest in a grip too tight, before shoving her backwards and up against the wall, using it to pin her hands above her head so she can no longer paw at him.

It instantly takes her back to being trapped in that hotel room with Ace; her own reaction is just as vicious and angry. She starts struggling against him, thrashing her head and yanking at her arms, twisting her wrists and simultaneously pulling down on his grip using her own body weight. But it’s of no use, he’s too strong. 

It doesn’t stop her though. She keeps trying to fight him.

“Stop! Elizabeth, stop! I’m not going to hurt you!” Rio says, voice oddly void of anger.

But she doesn’t, she can’t, at least not yet.

Instead of backing off, Rio crowds her further. He presses his face in close, stubble grazing one of the cheeks she’d been rubbing raw, breath caressing the shell of her ear and travelling down the column of her throat, unknowingly placing himself everywhere Ace had been. 

And suddenly she is breathless, her skin feeling like her own again as Rio releases her of the memory. So she does stop now — goes limp in his arms, leans into it.

When he feels her relax against him, he presses his forehead against her temple, nuzzles in closer to her ear, whispering to her. 

“That night I shot Ace,” he starts quietly. “I drove over there as fast I could, but he’d already got to you. You were beaten so bad and I knew Hector was already on his way. There just wasn’t no time. So I shot him. And I left him there. Didn’t check on him or nothin’. Just wanted to get you out, away from it all, somewhere safe.”

Beth practically whimpers against him, pulling at her arms again, wanting to get away from whatever this heartfelt confession is. But he doesn’t let her go.

“Stop, listen to me,” he says, pressing closer again still, using his cheek to brush her hair out of her face before tucking his lips back against her ear. “I would never have sent you there if I knew there was even a chance he’d be anywhere near you. I would never have done that to you. I promise. And I’m gonna take care of it for you, okay? He won’t touch you again.”

Beth lets out a sigh, her eyes falling closed so all she can do is breathe in his scent, letting it comfort her all over again.

He could be manipulating her again. He could just be doing this so he can get something else from her later. But she doesn’t care. Because right now, she feels completely safe. And that’s something she hasn’t felt for a long time, not since Rio was gone, not even after she went to the feds for help. And all it took was this; him caging her in and whispering promises into her ear.

“Do you believe me?” he asks.

And motive aside, she does, nods her head against him in answer.

He doesn’t say anything more after that, but doesn’t move away from her either, keeps breathing low and heavy in her ear. Beth shifts uneasily against him, not out of discomfort, just overwhelmed by the feeling, and the slight turn of her head has his lips inadvertently sliding against her cheek. 

She knows it’s an accident, but she can’t help the shaky breath that slips out of her parted lips, shivering in his arms from the contact, and it’s like Rio suddenly remembers himself.

He keeps his hands at her wrists, but pulls away from where he’d been leaning into the crook of her neck. He’s always had better control than her, even if he lost it for a minute there, which is something that seems to have disturbed him. The look on his face is one she’s never seen before: alarmed and agitated as he watches her warily.

Beth isn’t even trying though. Now that she can see him again and so close too, her eyes drop to his lips of their own accord, unable to resist. Rio sees when it happens, but there’s no smirk or raise of his eyebrow. Instead his Adam’s apple bobs up and down slowly as he swallows, and her eyes lower even further to take that in too. 

Her breathing has become audibly erratic, she’s almost panting through swollen lips into the shared space between them. She needs to put an end to this before she does something they’ll both regret. But when she tugs at her arms again, testing, Rio still won’t let her go.

So then she’s rocking up on her tip-toes instead, still shorter than him even in heels, testing him in a different way as her head cants forward, bringing their mouths so close together she can feel his breath against her lips. But Rio stays just that little bit out of reach, and his only reaction is to squeeze tighter at her wrists and absentmindedly run his tongue along his bottom lip.

Beth slumps back against the wall, letting it take her full weight as she stares up at him, feeling delirious and desperate and out of her mind.

Her hips jut out just that little bit due to the way he’s forcing her to lean, and after a quick glance down at the space between them, she’s back to watching him carefully as she now arches her back against the wall and presses her hips into him, hoping this will trigger something. Anything.

It does.

He quickly brings her wrists together, crossing one over the other so he can hold them both in one hand while his other finally frees itself to instead find its place at her hip, sinking his fingers into the material of her dress, and simultaneously stepping forward and roughly shoving her hips back against the wall.

He doesn’t look happy with her, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he releases a hissing breath. But Beth just raises her chin as if in challenge, forced to crane her neck up to meet his eyes now that he’s once again so close and towering over her.

His fingers squeeze and release against her hip, pressing into the soft flesh over and over again, until he’s finally breaking eye contact to peer down at what he’s doing. Squeezing and releasing and squeezing and releasing; until he’s pulling at the fabric, gathering it in his fist so her dress starts climbing up her leg.

The dress is tight and fitted, so those movements alone are only enough to expose the skin just above her knee, but Rio’s mouth is still falling open at the sight. 

He looks back up, and Beth stares at him through hazy eyes, gives one last tug at her wrists, and then he’s finally relinquishing his grip.

The second he lets go of her, her fingers are at the button of his jeans and his hands are at either side of her thighs pushing up her dress; both of them frantic and messy. 

She manages to get his pants open before he’s taking over and pulling his underwear down just enough, and she’s already bracing her hands against his shoulders as he shoves her panties to the side and pushes inside of her in one smooth movement.

The sound she lets out is high and loud; his is low and rumbling. 

It’d been so long and Beth clenches around him, like she’s trying to pull more of him inside her, and she is, and Rio gasps in response. He grips the backs of her thighs and lifts her up against the wall, high enough that when he loosens his grip so she slides back down on him, she has no choice but to accept the full length of him.

There’s no time for adjusting as he begins to thrust into her, burying his face in her neck and her tits and mouthing wetly at every bit of bare skin he can reach. Beth is grasping at the back of his shirt, head resting against the wall as she bounces up and down in time with their hips, moaning loudly and uncontrollably, too far gone to even consider whether or not Cisco and Joey are still around to hear her through the thin walls of the apartment.

When Rio finally lifts his head, it’s to place open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, to suck at her dimpled chin and bite at her red lips. Beth gasps against his mouth and presses into it, not yet kissing him but letting their lips brush openly against each other, breathless.

They both open their eyes to look at each other, Rio still fucking into her, eyes flickering down to her mouth as he wraps an arm firmly around her waist to keep them as close as possible. Beth lifts her hands and cups the short hair at the back of his head, running her fingers over it gently, before angling his lips and pulling him to her.

He resists at first, not letting her go through with it, staring up at her through half-lidded eyes. Beth moves a hand from his hair to his cheek, sliding down to cup his jaw and then his chin and pressing her forehead against his. That’s when he suddenly surges forward, crushing her mouth with his in a bruising kiss, the back of her head hitting the wall at the force of it. 

It’s so much worse than she remembered it, because it’s so much better. He kisses her over and over again; sucking at her lips, pressing his tongue into her mouth and stealing her already gasping breaths. Beth’s using both hands to cup his cheeks now, holding his face to hers, refusing to let him break away from her.

He continues to press up into her as his hands move to grab at her soft thighs, securing her legs around his waist before suddenly pulling her away from the wall and whipping around with her in his arms.

Beth lets out a surprised noise against his mouth, her hands scrambling to grab hold of his shoulders to keep herself steady, but Rio is just as graceful as ever as he carries her out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, and over to the bed.

He doesn’t break their connection as he eases her onto the mattress, just lowers himself with her, hands trailing up her arms and finding her wrists again, crossing and pinning them back above her head with a hand. Leaving her helpless beneath him.

He’s stilled the movements of his hips, but remains firmly pressed deep inside of her, hips grinding against hips. Beth finds it maddening, trying to thrust down onto him as he pulls away from her mouth too, observing her frustration.

“Rio, Rio,” she pants uncontrollably.

Her hair is a mess, falling in her face from the sudden change in position, and that’s when Rio is slowly, ever so slowly, reaching a hand up to her face, and holding her eyes, before sliding his fingers across the skin of her forehead, to her temple, and finally tucking her hair behind her ear.

He lets out a heavy sigh, repeats the motion again, and Beth’s suddenly in no hurry to speed things along. The look on his face is one of total awe and she wants to stay in this moment for as long as she can.

Eventually he catches the way she’s staring, notices the fact that she’s just letting him have this, and so he’s lifting up and snapping his hips back into her quick and hard to watch her crumbling reaction. But Beth doesn’t mind the way she throws her head back and openly groans in response, because when her muscles contract and she clenches around him again, wanting more, he lets out one of his own.

“Ugh fuck!” he breathes against her, leaning down to kiss her again, mumbling again her lips. “ _ Elizabeth. _ ”

He falls back into a rhythm after that, fucking her into the mattress, free hand exploring her body. 

His fingers start all the way down by her ankle, fingering the red straps of her heels and travelling up a smooth calf to a round thigh, pushing under her dress as far as he can to palm at the soft flesh of her stomach. But his reach is restricted by the tight fabric, so he eventually pulls his hand out to let his fingers span her ribs over her dress instead.

Beth suddenly pulls away from him and lets out a sharp hiss.

She knew she was going to be left with bruises all over again from where Ace had dug his fingers into her, but for some reason she feels embarrassed when Rio pulls away from her too, clearly able to tell it wasn’t a sound of pleasure leaving her mouth, but one of pain.

He searches her eyes for a second, before glancing down at where his hand rests over her ribs still, and then he’s releasing his grip on her wrists above her head. When she brings her arms back down to her sides, thinking she’s ruined the moment, he’s tugging at the straps at her shoulders, pulling the bodice down far enough so he can see her.

They’re nowhere near as bad as what they had been the first time Ace got his hands on her, but there are some bruises already forming. Beth wants to pull her dress back on, cover them up, but Rio is already leaning down and placing his lips over them, gently, so it won’t hurt.

Beth is momentarily stunned, a wave of pleasure running through her that has nothing to do with his cock still thick and hard inside her. And just like he was able to sense the change in her mood when he accidentally hurt her, he’s able to sense the change in her mood now that he’s taken it away.

He removes his lips and pulls one of the cups of her bra down, exposing her nipple to the cool air, and immediately placing his hot mouth over it, swirling his tongue and sucking noisily, looking up at her as he sinks his teeth into the swell of the underside of her breast.

Beth is a moaning mess, Ace once again rightfully forgotten, squirming beneath Rio and rocking her hips into him desperately. He gets a hand under her, lifting her ever so slightly and encouraging her to thrust up against him. 

She’s getting louder, closer, and Rio senses that too.

He keeps his hand at the small of her back but flattens himself on top of her, grinding into her with short, quick thrusts and pressing his pubic bone down against her clit, unrelenting.

“Come on, Elizabeth,” he whispers, lips next to her ear again, biting at it and sucking her earlobe into his mouth.

Beth wraps herself around him, her arms winding their way around his shoulders and her legs around his hips, and she doesn’t let go as her orgasm suddenly wraps around her too.

She remains taut as her body peaks, every muscle in her body tense and shaking, until finally the pleasure starts rolling in gentle waves, washing over her and allowing her to drop soft and limp back down against the bed.

Rio isn’t long following her, burying a hand in her hair and pressing his open mouth against her neck as he lets out a low groan, riding his orgasm out and continuing to thrust his hips as he releases inside of her.

When he finishes, he goes limp too, collapsing against her. And both remain still together, caught up in the aftershocks, eyes closed and panting heavily.

It isn’t until their breathing starts to even out and the high starts to wear off, that logical thought also starts to return to them. The reality of what they’ve just done hitting them harsh and hard.

What they just did was so wrong. It should never have happened. Beth tried to kill him. Rio wants to kill her. They can’t be doing this. It just makes everything so much more complicated. So much more fucked up. What is wrong with her? What is wrong with them?

Rio starts to shift on top of her, he’s still inside her. And oh god! Beth closes her eyes as he pulls out and rolls away from her, landing next to her on the bed. She immediately wraps an arm across her exposed chest, pulling her bra back up and her dress back down to cover herself. 

Neither of them says anything.

Rio eventually sits up, slowly, not looking at her as he stands, going as far as to put his back to her as he tucks himself back into his jeans. 

She sits up too, holding her dress to her chest, unable to slip back into properly as one of the straps now hangs broken from the force of him pulling it off her.

When Rio does finally turn back to her, eyes seeking her out, he’s got that alarmed, agitated look on his face again. He too knows how wrong this is. It’s just another one of his mistakes.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out, and his brow furrows angrily as he struggles to find something to say. This disturbs Beth even more; he always knows what to say.

When he opens his mouth to try again, Beth just shakes her head at him.

She stands awkwardly, unsteady on her feet, both from the heels and from what they’d just done. She doesn’t know what to say either, so she doesn’t try. Just heads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her, and turning on the shower. 

She only starts crying once she’s sure she’s heard him leave.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, long time no see, hope we're all well and thriving.
> 
> Big thank you goes out to my wonderful beta and friend, fortunehasgivenup, without her this chapter would not be here.  
> And to those who continued to leave me lovely little comments while I was away.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy.

Beth can’t imagine a life without her children. She loves them each deeply, profoundly – in a way she never felt from her own parents. She wouldn’t want to exist in a world where their smiling, chubby, little cherub faces didn’t exist. They are a blessing. They are what keeps her going. But she can’t say they were what she always wanted.

Big families were always a foreign concept to Beth. Growing up, family to her was only ever Annie. Her father abandoned them around the time her baby sister was born and her mother abandoned them not too long after that. Not by leaving though. Unlike her father, her mother was always present, but either stuck in bed or lost in a bottle. There was never any doubt in Beth’s mind that she and Annie were very much on their own.

So when Beth finally got out of that awful house and married Dean, she was very much of the opinion that one, maybe two kids would be nice, but no more. And she had wanted to wait as long as possible before she had her first. She wasn’t going to be one of those moms fresh out of high school with a baby on the way. She wanted to experience the world a little more, really enjoy her twenties and come into her own. But since she was still practically raising Annie and then taking care of her ailing mother in her last years, it didn’t really make much difference.

So she eventually had Kenny, followed by Jane, and she was happy, really happy. A boy and a girl, the perfect little family. Not like she’d always dreamed – suburban motherhood and white-picket fences were never things she particularly aspired to have, but her love for them drowned it all out. It felt like this was it. This was the good life.

But Dean hadn’t agreed. Dean had grown up an only child, spoiled and doted upon by an overbearing mother, with a father who while agreeable, was very much a passive participant when it came to parenting. He was convinced that the more children they had, the stronger their love would be, that bigger families meant happier families. So despite initial resistance on her part, and despite her marriage already starting to show early signs of strain, she became pregnant again and had Danny. And he was so much gentler than her first two, even as a baby, peaceful and sweet, and her heart just grew fuller and everything felt complete… 

Up until Dean once again grew restless. They were starting to argue more. He would be gone most of the day working, and Beth would be at home most of the day working. Because yes, being a fulltime stay-at-home mother is work, hard work – a concept her husband was refusing to understand.

But the worse things became, the more convinced Dean became that a fourth baby would solve all their problems, bring back the joy and the intimacy they experienced as new parents with their first three. And honestly, the excitement she felt when she first heard Emma’s heartbeat did feel like the answer.

The post-natal depression put a stop to that. Dean would later use it as the reason that everything fell apart, like it was the catalyst for the lies and the cheating. But Beth knew better. She knew it started long before that, before Emma, before even Danny.

Beth loves being a mother, could never, would never regret having any of her children. But somewhere along the way of trying to fit into this white-picket fence dream, she had lost herself, had forgotten this dream was never her own. And then she just found herself at a place in life where she didn’t know who she was outside of her children, outside of being their mom.

So, it was Beth who would call it. Emma was to be their last. No more babies. 

Dean had easily agreed at the time, something that had surprised her. He had always been so adamant about wanting five children and met any resistance from Beth on the issue with condescending reassurance, going on and on about how much of a great wife and mother she is, which of course only served to make her feel like she was neither for not wanting to carry any more of her husband’s children. It was her very own guilt trip.

She wonders now if his sudden disinterest in adding to their family had anything to do with their financial situation already starting to take a turn for the worse, or if perhaps it was just his eyes that had already begun to wander.

Either way, once she knew Dean was on board with her decision, Beth went about finding a more permanent way to finalize it; she didn’t do shades of grey. Dean of course refused to have a vasectomy, something that she could have guessed before she even broached the subject with him. So it would wind up being her, determined to take back some control in her life and desperate to prevent any future surprises, who decided to have tubal ligation.

She felt selfish, but she just knew she couldn’t go through it again and risk what happened with Emma happening with another baby – Beth unable to get out of bed, take care of her children, make love to her husband. It was too reminiscent of her mother. This decision was best for everyone. She could be a good wife to her husband, she could be a good mother to the children she already had. But no more.

There was a sense of sadness and loss that came with the decision. But there was also relief. She even felt somewhat proud that she was able to recognize the problem and take active steps for the sake of her own mental health to remedy it. She felt like maybe she was starting to find herself again, brazen and bold like she used to be.

But whatever sparks were trying to take hold and ignite were easily extinguished when Dean was quick to reassure her that if she did have the procedure, it wouldn’t make her any less of a woman in his eyes, and was adamant, for her sake, that they didn’t have to tell anybody, that they could keep it a secret.

And that was… something she hadn’t even thought about. Because of course it wouldn’t make her any less of a woman. Having babies wasn’t what made a woman. Having a vagina wasn’t even what made a woman. And certainly, having her tubes tied was not something she should be ashamed of. Dean had no idea what he was talking about. And she knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was just being insensitive and ignorant as per usual, the same asshole she’d known for years with a penchant for putting his foot in his mouth. But he’d planted the seed and Beth would allow it to grow. 

So instead she went on the pill. She’d been on it before in between pregnancies, used to take it regularly in her teens and early twenties. It did the job, but had still made her feel like a failure. Too afraid of her husband’s judgement and waning interest to go through with something she really wanted. Turns out it wouldn’t have mattered had she gone through with it anyway, he cheated on her all the same.

Even before she found out about Amber, she had started to dismiss the idea of herself in her own mind as someone who could be exciting or desirable. She was now just this dowdy mom of four. No longer youthful or worthy of that kind of attention. Someone who would never warrant a second glance from another man. And yet…

From the moment that they had met, Rio had looked at her in a way no one else ever had. He took his time with her, studying her as if she were something rare and exceptional, listening to her and singling her out like she could be something. And challenging her. Challenging her in a way that told her he believed that she was capable of handling it. It was no wonder he was able to get under her skin so easily from the very beginning.

And she isn’t negating her entire relationship with Dean because of Rio either. Dean did love her, and properly, once upon a time. But his adoring gaze from when they were teenagers had long faded and it was just so different to the way Rio would stare at her – a mix of heated desire but such intense intrigue.

He had called her interesting. And Beth had believed it. He’d made her feel smart, and strong and sexy, and like a woman who was worthy. In meeting Rio, she was able to regain her confidence, a feat she had thought impossible after years of being convinced of her own inadequacies. 

And no, just because her personal growth had been so exceptional, does not mean she had forgotten his effect on her moral character, which no doubt, had become quite questionable. But by god was it liberating.

So when Rio took that all away again, framed her, told her she was just work to him like everything they had been through had meant nothing at all, she believed that too, and quickly reverted back to feeling like that old, insecure, boring housewife, full of regrets and spiraling. To this day, she still feels stupid for allowing herself to be so affected by him.

After everything she’s been through and out of all the regrets she now harbors, not going through with having her tubes tied had no longer rated particularly high on her list. Especially after she shot a man. It isn’t until she let that same man fuck her without a condom that she starts to change her mind.

It was while Beth was standing under the heavy spray of the shower, head down, hair hanging in her face, a hand between her legs as her fingers ran through the cum dripping down her thighs, that she realized their mistake.

She isn’t on the pill anymore. Hasn’t been for some time now since her confinement. And she was absolutely horrified when she realized that without any access to the outside world, she was going to have to rely on asking Demon or Cisco for the means to rectify such a careless oversight.

If she hadn’t already regretted what happened between them, she certainly did then. Based on history alone, it was already perverse what they did. Beth tried to kill him and Rio’s promised to kill her. They should not still be drawn to each other the way they are. He should be repulsed by her touch and she should be afraid of his. 

And then to not use protection? What is wrong with her? How could she be so stupid? 

Not that it’s the first time she’s let him come inside her. It’s not even the second.

When they fucked in that tiny bar bathroom, desperate and frantic, it had just sort of happened. They’d both been drinking and everything was so intense and in the moment, she didn’t even think to ask if he had a condom on him. She was too busy pulling at him and offering herself up like everything they had ever done had just been building to this moment. And maybe it had.

She had scolded herself afterwards of course. It was just so very unlike her to be that reckless, and then she promised herself to never let it happen again. Both Rio and the unprotected sex.

But then it wouldn’t be long before she found herself inviting him into her bedroom and doing the exact same thing all over again. This time very much aware of the lack of condom. This time, though not yet willing to admit it to herself, craving it, wanting him to come in her. She had liked that warm, full feeling it gave her as he marked her up from the inside. She had liked sitting next to an oblivious Dean in the car, answering tedious questions while her thighs were secretly sticky with him.

It had become just another part of him she fantasized about. It was no longer just Rio smashing things up and roughly pressing her into hard surfaces as he fucked her. There was him finishing too. Inside of her. Wrapped up in her. Filling her up and collapsing against her.

She remembers he had hesitated before he pushed inside her that second time in her bed, a question in his eyes as he held himself over her. Enough presence of mind this time around to silently ask permission.

“I’m good,” is all she had said, practically whispered to him. “You?”

He had nodded, and that was as in depth as they were both willing to get before he was pressing into her and letting out a breathless groan against her mouth that she still thinks about to this day.

Later, when Beth could think clearly again, she would wonder the opposite, why he would be so reckless with her. He just doesn’t seem like the type that would play it fast and loose when it came to sex. Even if he had just assumed she was already on the pill, she would have thought the health side of things to still be an issue. Though she supposes he was safe in assuming that Beth wasn’t exactly getting around all that much. She was and always has been a boring housewife after all.

The morning after their failed meet with DeLuca, the morning after _it_ happened, Beth had been dreading having to leave her bedroom. It was just so humiliating. She hated having to ask for this, feared the judgement she’d face once she did. But there wasn’t a choice. This is something she couldn’t just ignore.

The journey down the hallway to the kitchen had felt like the equivalent to a walk of shame. She had even struggled to make eye contact when she rounded the corner and spotted Cisco sitting at the table reading a magazine. She was going to do it. She really was.

But before she could open her mouth and form the words, she noticed the brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. 

“Morning Mrs. B,” Cisco had greeted easily. “Boss said to give that to you.”

Beth had responded with a smile that she just knew appeared forced, eyeing the paper bag with apprehension and trying to seem nonchalant as she made her way over to it. If Cisco noticed she was behaving strangely, he didn’t say anything. 

On the outside of the bag, in his scrawl had been ‘Elizabeth’, and to her relief, when she peeked at the inside, there was a box of Plan B.

“That medication? You feeling sick or something?” Cisco asked, looking at her with concern.

“Um, yep, that’s it, I am,” Beth had answered, before quickly excusing herself and practically running back to the bedroom to take it.

She’d felt like she had just dodged a bullet. He’d saved her from the embarrassment of having to reveal to Cisco what they had done, while also avoiding a pregnancy scare. He’d taken care of it for her. But there was some part of her, the scheming part, that had considered what would happen if she didn’t take it, that if did get pregnant, and how maybe it’d buy her some time. But no, Rio’s not the only one she has to worry about, and Hector wouldn’t think twice about something like that if he got his hands on her. 

She’d got lucky that it was Cisco with her that morning and not Demon. There was just no way he wouldn’t have realized what was going on if he’d been the one asked to deliver her that package. She really didn’t want anyone knowing. It just felt too shameful.

As far as she could tell, at least up until that point in time, no one did know a thing. Nothing was said to her, nothing alluded to. She actually started to think she had gotten away with it. And if it weren’t for the way Rio reacted to her when she finally saw him again, it might have stayed that way.

When Demon had told her that Rio was coming over later that same week, she had immediately begun to panic. She really wasn’t ready to see him again, she didn’t want to. She briefly considered just hiding out in her room for the duration of his visit in order to avoid him, but hiding in her room ran the risk of Rio coming in to find her in her room, where her bed is… It just all felt like a little too much too soon. 

The more she thought on it though, the more she realized that perhaps seeing him and getting it over and done with would be for the better. It might even allow for some much-needed clarity between them. Beth for one, had been walking around in a daze of confusion ever since it happened.

She had no idea where they stood with each other, how he felt about what happened, how he felt about her. She had no idea how to answer those questions herself. She was hoping that perhaps based on his reaction to seeing her, and her own to seeing him, they might be able to work it out between the two of them. But it only served to make things worse.

The second he walked into the apartment she knew something was wrong. His eyes flitted around the room as he came through the door, barely resting on her where she stood but not blatantly ignoring her either. And when he walked into the kitchen he was careful to give her a wide berth as he came to rest against the sink.

Everything about him was still so inherently Rio – movements were smooth, expression neutral, voice low and even as he greeted them – but there was just something about him that felt off.

Instead of knowing smirks and teasing innuendos, or even cutting insults and thinly-veiled threats, Rio was acting civil towards her. He acknowledged her presence, allowed her to stay and listen as he updated the guys on his plans, and even politely stepped out of her way so she could get to the kettle at one point. 

He was inoffensive and respectful and everything she ever wanted him to be, but also completely unaffected by her presence. 

Even when things were at their very worst between them and Rio was ignoring her or treating her with feigned indifference, there was always some part of him she could tell was focused on her, fine-tuned to her every movement. It was in that ever-present heat between them, in the way his eyes scorched her as he catalogued every expression, tracked every breath, lingered on every blush of her cheeks or tremble of her lips. It was always there.

But that day in the dingy kitchen of the apartment she is essentially being held captive in, there was nothing. No purposeful avoidance or restrained anger. No tension. Not even a hint of that fire that had so far endured even the worst of their betrayals to burn between them. It was gone. They may as well have been strangers.

At one point, when she had purposely locked eyes with him and he had paused long enough to hold her gaze, she had thought finally, this is it, this is when the heat would return and she’d begin to smolder. But the change never came, not even to glare at her coldly. It was room fucking temperature.

And that was so much worse than if he’d looked at her filled with hate. She could have accepted hate. There’s passion in hate. But instead it was like that night had marked the end of something she hadn’t even thought she could lose. Like the second Rio had left her bedroom he had finally decided to extinguish those pesky flames and leave her in the aftermath to choke on the smoke.

Demon was still suspicious of them. Even more so due to the obvious change in Rio’s demeanor towards her. She could tell from the moment Rio walked in and gave her a cursory nod before starting to talk business, that Demon was watching them curiously.

There’s no doubt in her mind that Cisco would have told him about her and the gun and asking everyone to leave the two of them alone for a while. He may not know for sure exactly what happened during that time just yet, but the way he kept staring between them with this apprehensive look on his face was enough to let her know he was on his way to working it out. 

Even Cisco picked up on Rio’s sudden disinterest in her, shifting uncomfortably when she came to stand next to him, shooting questioning glances between them. Though that’s not to say he hadn’t overheard something on the night and his unease was simply leftover awkwardness.

A part of Beth was erring on the side of devastation. Her stomach had been in knots all day, every day since it happened. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him and what it meant. She wasn’t stupid enough to assume it had changed his mind about what he was going to do with her, Beth’s naivety expired far too long ago for that. But she did entertain the idea that it would perhaps mean _something_ , affect him in some way, however small.

As it turned out though, it didn’t and it hadn’t. And so the other part of Beth, the part she is now choosing to focus on, is fine with that, even draws the same conclusion. It was just sex. It was just their anger in that moment. It was just whatever was left over from their past. It was just a way of getting it out of their system. It was nothing.

Their penchant for the important things being left unsaid had always only ever added fuel to that once burning fire between them. The burden of all those pent-up emotions was bound to overcome them eventually, they just dealt with it in the only way they knew how. Like some echo from another time, mimicking a version of Beth and Rio so foreign to her now, it feels more like a dream than something that had ever really happened. 

But now it’s over and done with. They’re over and done with. And eventually she’ll start to feel the same way about this most recent night with him like she does the others. It’ll just be another distant dreamlike version of them she’ll think about sometimes but soon enough will hardly recognize.

But of course, it is during one of those dreams that she wakes in the night to find him sitting at the edge of her bed.

***

At first, she’s back to the day she first awoke in the apartment. Battered and bruised, in and out of consciousness, registering the pain and the weight of someone close by her on the mattress, but far too delirious to open her eyes and see who it is. It’s almost comforting, going back to that moment and remembering someone sitting there and watching over her.

But the realization hits her soon enough that that was then and this is now, and Ace and Hector are out there somewhere trying to kill her. And so she’s quickly sitting up and scrambling in the dark, pulling her blankets up to her chest in some hopeless attempt to protect herself.

She feels the immediate loss of warmth as she does so, only now registering the fact she had somehow started to curl herself around the man currently sitting with his back to her on her bed, probably just seeking out his warmth in her sleep. She would be embarrassed if she weren’t so terrified.

It all happens in the matter of seconds, the panic, the recoil, the recognition. As soon as her eyes begin to adjust to the dark she is able to make out the familiar hard lines of Rio’s unmoving silhouette.

He sits bent over, feet planted on the carpet, arms resting against his thighs, head down and bowed forward, hands loosely clasped together in front of him. He looks tired like this, slouching over himself. She can’t see his eyes to confirm though, no matter how she angles her head.

Instead, Beth tries to study his profile, catch a glimpse of his expression at the very least so she can attempt to gauge his mood. But he’s cast in nothing but shadow, is nothing but an outline of the man she knows too well for either of their comfort. And despite the fact she wasn’t exactly subtle when she startled awake, he still hasn’t turned to look at her.

Beth moves slowly, quietly, as she reaches out a hand to her bedside table to flick on the lamp. 

It’s like shining a light on a scene from a horror film. All she can see is blood. It’s on his face, his neck, his shirt, his hands, his knuckles. Fuck. His knuckles. They’re split open and bleeding, the blood trailing down his fingers and dripping onto the carpet. 

He still doesn’t look at her.

“Rio,” she struggles to get out, too afraid to inch forward, too shocked to move away.

It’s like time moves slowly when he finally turns to look at her.

The blood cakes his face evenly on both sides. It looks like it may have come from a cut across his forehead, or maybe the split in his lip, or the graze on his left cheekbone, the one on his right. She can’t tell. It’s just everywhere. Red all over.

“Rio,” she says again.

He remains silent, staring at her with this dark gaze, no longer indifferent like the other day in the kitchen but still not full of any heat. His eyes are black.

“What happened? What’s going on?” she finally manages to whisper.

It takes a moment for him to answer, studying her for some time before he relents. “It’s done."

His voice is low and hoarse, gravelly in a way she’s only ever heard a handful of times in situations she’d rather not remember. Beth’s hands fist tighter in the blankets around her as something like panic slowly starts to build within her.

“What’s done?” she whimpers.

And she can’t help but think she already knows his answer. That this is it. They’re done. It’s all over. That Hector’s gone and now here Rio is, finally ready to get rid of her too.

But when he opens his mouth and answers her, eyes still boring into her, it’s nothing like what she expects.

“Ace,” he says.

At first, she’s at a loss, confused, so far gone in her own thoughts of impending demise that she finds herself scrambling to try and make sense of it. Ace? She had almost forgotten. But then suddenly the sound of Rio’s voice whispering quiet words in her ear as he held her pinned against the bathroom wall not so many nights ago creeps its way back into her mind.

His promise to her. His promise to take care of Ace.

“You…” Beth stops, tries again. “He’s dead.”

It’s not a question and Rio doesn’t answer it.

Her lip begins to tremble on its own accord, her throat suddenly so dry that she struggles to swallow. She feels numb. No, she feels sick. This isn’t what she expected. This isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want more brutality. And she never wanted him to get hurt because of her. Not again.

“Why?” It’s the only thing she can think to say because she just doesn’t understand it. This. Him.

Rio’s head tilts back just that little, illuminating his face even more so under the low lamp light, making the blood shine brighter. He looks at her through half-lids in a way she’d almost describe as fond and she hates it. She hates everything about him in this moment, hates how the blood changes the sharp lines of his face, hates how it reminds her of that night in his apartment when he was coughing up mouthfuls of it. 

When he lifts one of his bloody hands towards her, reaching out to her, it takes all her willpower not to flinch away from him. And she continues to hold firm as he traces a finger down her cheek, despite how she can feel the sticky, wet trail of blood he leaves behind.

“We’re even now,” Rio whispers to her. “At least for this.”

He stares at her intently, willing her to understand. And she does. 

Twice he had been the reason Beth had to encounter the wrath of a violent Ace. Once due to what Ace had seen on the security footage and again when he sent her to that hotel. Despite what she’d done to him, in his mind, he owed her.

From the very beginning Rio has always been about keeping things even between them. She stole his money, she needed to pay him back. If not in cash, then by taking on jobs for him. She made the mess, she’s the one that needed to clean it up. She needed to pull her weight. There were no exceptions. She was no exception.

So Rio made up for the mess he had created with Ace like he promised. He kept things even. She just wishes there were a way she could make up for what she did to him in return. But the only way she can do that, he’s already thought of, and it involves a bullet.

Rio doesn’t say anything more and when he finally stands and slowly, painfully walks over to the door, she doesn’t look at him. Light floods the room when he pulls it open, and Demon and Cisco are right there waiting for him, both looking as tired and anxious as she’s ever seen them.

She watches from under her blankets as Demon carefully wraps an arm around Rio’s waist and walks him down the hallway and out of sight, Cisco only offering her a small, sorry smile as he shuts the door behind them, leaving her on her own again.

She spends the rest of the night on her hands and knees, scrubbing Rio’s blood from the carpet. She’ll get most of it out, she’s good at this, she knows. There’ll be barely any trace of it in the morning. No one would even know he was here. 

She’d almost be able to pretend too if it weren’t for the forgotten blood marring her cheek. She’ll find that streaked across her pillow when she wakes in the morning.

***

“So, how’s the lingerie biz?” Beth asks.

“Yeah, we’re not doing that,” comes Ruby’s unimpressed reply.

It’s been the better part of week since that late-night encounter with a beat-up Rio. Beth’s been doing her best to forget all about it and just get on with things. She’s even resisted the urge to hound Demon and Cisco every second they’re together for information on how he’s doing. Though it’s been difficult.

Rio hasn’t been around since. Which isn’t entirely unexpected considering he’d obviously need to take some time to allow himself to heal. Beth certainly did after her own encounter with Ace. She just has this terrible feeling that she can’t shake, her mind always flickering back to the last time she saw him, unable to get past it.

His face and all that blood have been seared into her brain, the same way the image of him dying on his apartment floor had. And even though he never really did die, without him here as tangible, living proof, she can’t help how the worry gnaws at her.

She wants to go back in time, to him on her bed, his hand on her cheek. She’d reach out too, touch him. Just make sure that despite all the blood, he’s still here and he’s okay and he’s not back at that apartment, full of bullets, bleeding out all over again.

It’s frustrating. She can’t put into words just how sick it made her feel to see him like that again, to know that she was the reason for it. It was a violent reminder to just how fleeting his life could be and just how easily he could disappear on her again. This time for good.

And she knows it’s irrational all things considered, but after everything’s that’s happened – the emotional trauma of thinking she had lost him by fault of her own hand, the complicated elation at discovering he was alive – she doesn’t think she’d be able to recover if he were to go and get himself killed for real this time, especially over something so stupid as a promise he had made to her in the heat of the moment.

The only reprieve she gets from her one-sided concern over Rio’s health, is her once-a-day phone calls with either her kids, or Ruby and Annie. She’s set up a schedule with her best friend and sister, they know every second night that she will be calling them at eight o’clock on the dot. Dean hasn’t been as cooperative when she tries to call the kids, no surprise there. But Demon and Cisco are pretty lax when it comes to letting her hit redial over and over again until she can get through.

Tonight however, for the first time since this started, she’s only got Ruby on the call. Something last minute came up with Ben and Annie had to run out to meet up with Gregg at the school. Nothing bad apparently, but Annie’s so desperate to make a good impression at this new place that she’s insisted on being present for every single meeting. Perhaps out of some guilt from preventing Ben from attending so long in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” Beth jokes. “Talking to middle-aged women about lace panties and barely-there thongs not all it’s cracked up to be?”

“Like I said,” comes Ruby’s reply. “We’re not doing that.”

Her voice is low and serious. Blunt. Something’s wrong.

Beth clears her throat awkwardly, confused by her best friend’s sudden somber demeanor.

“Not doing what?” she asks carefully.

She hears Ruby sigh at the other end of the line before she answers her.

“I’ve been patient Beth, I really have. I’ve gone along with this story you’ve been spinning, I’ve accepted your vague answers and half-truths. But I’m done. I know there’s something else going on here, something you’re not telling me, and it’s only been for Annie’s sake that I’ve kept my mouth shut this long. She’s already so close to losing it. But she isn’t here right now, so I need you to cut the bullshit. What’s really going on?”

Beth’s cheeks immediately flush red, already stressed from the lie she’s about to tell. Again.

“Ruby, I’ve already told you, Hector knows I’ve been-“

“No! Stop that,” Ruby demands, cutting her off. “There’s more to it than that. I know it. You know it. You said you had to go into hiding because Hector found out you’d been talking to the feds? Fine, makes sense. But then why did I have Turner knocking on my door the other week, sniffing around my house and asking me questions about when I had last seen you and did I know your current whereabouts? Huh? Why is that? Because as far as I know from what you told me, you’re in protective custody right now and he should already know the answer to those questions. I mean for god’s sake Beth! The only reason we knew about Hector finding out in the first place is because you sent Demon around to warn us! Fucking Demon!” Ruby yells, voice disbelieving.

Beth doesn’t blame her. There’s been holes in her story since the beginning. She had just been grateful neither of them had worked up the courage to start poking at them.

“I’m not stupid,” Ruby continues. “I know there’s something else going on that you’re not saying. I just don’t know why. I mean, this is me Beth. Why can’t you tell me? I’m doing my best to hold it together over here, for you, for Annie, but I’m-“ her voice cracks and she pauses, taking a second before she finishes. “Beth, I’m scared for you.”

Beth’s eyes fill with tears that she quickly swipes at, glancing over from her stool to where Cisco sits on the couch watching TV. He’d turned the volume up when she’d started her call, and so is completely unaware of the conversation she’s currently having, too busy laughing along with a Friends rerun.

Beth slides off her stool easily, walking herself further into the kitchen and out of sight, lingering near the kettle so that she has an easy excuse if Cisco comes looking for her.

“It wasn’t me who sent Demon to warn you,” Beth whispers quietly, grabbing for a mug and eyeing the wall Cisco will have to round in order to find her. “It was Rio.”

There’s silence for a moment. Beth can almost hear the shallow change in Ruby’s breathing.

“What?”

“I don’t have a lot of time to explain everything, but it’s true. It was Rio. He’s alive. He’s been alive this whole time. And somehow, I’ve found myself between him, Hector and the FBI all at once.”

“Beth,” comes Ruby’s breathless voice. “I don’t understand. I don’t even know where to begin. Is he the one you’re really hiding from? Does Turner know? But wait, why then did he send Demon to talk to us? Was that a trick? Was that just to see if we knew where you were? Oh my god, Rio’s after you, isn’t he? He’s gonna come after us all. This is bad. This is worse than bad.”

“Ruby, Ruby, calm down. Just listen to me, okay? I need you to listen,” Beth says as commanding as she can while still keeping her voice lowered. “Rio poses no threat to you. He is not your problem, Hector is. He is the one you need to focus on. Everything I told you about him is true and the danger is very real. So far, he hasn’t tried to approach you or Annie and I‘m really hoping it stays that way. But you still need to be careful. He won’t hesitate to hurt you if he thinks it’ll lead him to finding me.”

“Jesus, Beth. This is a mess. This is such a mess.”

Beth sighs, turns the kettle on and rests against the sink, closing her eyes for a moment as the low whistle starts to sound.

“I know, I know.”

Ruby goes quiet again. Beth lets her, lets her try and unpack what she’s just told her and wrap her head around it.

“How do you know Rio poses no threat to us?” Ruby asks suddenly. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Ruby, I can’t really go into detail right now but-“

“The feds don’t have you, do they?” Ruby interrupts, voice dejected from already knowing the answer. Beth can picture the disappointed look upon her face to match it.

Beth sighs. “No, they don’t.”

“Because Rio does, right?”

Another sigh. “Yeah, he does.”

There’s a long pause, then a sharp intake of breath, and when Ruby speaks, Beth can hear the tears in her shaking voice again.

“He’s going to kill you, isn’t he?”

“Ruby I-“ She can’t say it. She can’t tell her this truth, so she settles on, “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” Ruby throws back immediately. She’s known Beth too well and for far too long not to recognize the hesitation in her voice, the lack of conviction. “We have to do something. There must be some way Annie and I can help you, get you out of there.”

“No, you can’t!” Beth quickly counters. “Please, don’t. You’ll only be putting your own lives in danger and there’s so much more going on you don’t understand.”

“What? What do you mean? We need to stop him Beth. Tell me where you are. I’m not going to just sit back and let my best friend be murdered.” 

“You can’t come after me,” Beth answers, trying her best to stay strong. “And you can’t go after him. I know this doesn’t make sense but Rio is helping me right now. He’s helping all of us. He’s going to kill Hector.”

“So?” Ruby snaps back. “That doesn’t mean shit to me in the long run if you wind up dead along the way.”

Beth feels something inside her ache. Ruby doesn’t get it and Beth is desperate to make her understand. This is important. Rio needs to be allowed to do whatever it is he has to in order to take down Hector. No matter what. No matter if it means standing back and letting something bad happen to Beth in the process.

“Ruby,” she starts, as calmly as she can manage. “Hector once threatened to murder my kids in front of me if I ever betrayed him, which is exactly what I have done. And he knows that. He knows,” Beth stresses. “You have to understand, the only reason he hasn’t been able to deliver on that threat just yet is because Rio got to them first, sent the kids out of state, Dean too. But they can’t hide from him forever. I can’t. Rio’s the only chance we’ve got. We have to let him do this.” 

She hears Ruby sigh over the other end of the line, and she uses the pause in conversation to walk the couple of steps over to the kitchen island, lean over and check on Cisco, relieved to see he’s exactly where she left him.

“Listen, I understand what you’re saying,” Ruby finally says. “I do. But what happens after that? What happens once he’s taken care of Hector and decides he’s finally going to take care of you too? What then? Because I don’t want to be sitting here, waiting one night for a call that never comes because we waited too long to try and save you.”

“I don’t know what else to do Ruby,” Beth admits sadly, shaking her head and moving back to lean against the sink.

“I think you do know. You just don’t want to think about it.”

“Ruby, can we please not do this right now? These phone calls are all I have to look forward to.”

“And I’m sorry for that, but you have to hear this,” Ruby replies to her. “We both know there’s no way Rio’s going to suddenly just forgive and forget and let you go. Homie doesn’t fly like that and the last time you tried to walk away from him he started sending you body parts.”

“Jesus, don’t remind me,” Beth mumbles.

“And we both know that even if you did somehow manage to get away while this thing with Hector is going down, there’s no running from him. He’ll find you. Rio always knows how to find you. And this time he isn’t coming after you for stealing his money or refusing to kill a man, he’s coming after you for revenge. Which means you’re going to need to make a choice. The kind of choice you made that night in his apartment, only this time, you’re going to have to make sure you finish the job.”

“Ruby, no. Stop. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well you have to,” Ruby tells her bluntly. “Because one day soon you’re going to have to choose between him or you and I want to make sure you’re choosing you. And I know, I know it’s the last thing you want to hear after everything you’ve been through, after what it did to you, but I think you already know you’re running out of options as well as time."

“No,” Beth pants out, struggling to breathe, horrified by the suggestion that had already been buried somewhere deep in the back of her mind. “I can’t. I could never. Not again.”

“I am not losing you to him,” Ruby says firmly, and her voice remains calm but Beth can tell it isn’t without effort. “If you have a better idea I am all ears. But I don’t see another way of getting you out of this alive.”

“I can’t,” Beth says again, almost pleading with her. “It’s not that simple. He saved me. Even after what I did. He got to me before Hector could.”

“So he could kill you himself?” Ruby asks, unrelenting. “Stop defending him. You don’t owe him anything.”

“I do,” Beth says, lips trembling and tears finally spilling over. “I tried to kill him and he saved me. He’s saved me so many times.”

“Bullshit!” Ruby finally snaps. “Bullshit! You did what you had to do. Stop acting like what happened that night makes you deserving of the same fate. Or like him saving you makes up for everything he did to us. _Or_ like him getting rid of Hector is somehow worth dying for. This isn’t some twisted kind of payoff. Your life for his. Bullet for bullet. You need to fight."

“What if I can’t?” Beth asks her honestly. “What if I can’t bring myself to do it again?”

Ruby sniffles over the phone. Beth hears some fumbling like perhaps she’s changing hands or shifting in her seat.

“Beth, I love you, and I know you’ve spent the past year torturing yourself over what you did, but you have to know I always understood why. Rio turned into something else towards the end there. Something unrecognizable. And what you did that night must have been awful and scary in ways I can’t even imagine, and it must have made you question yourself every night since. But you must know that protecting yourself was, and always will be, the right choice. And you must know that I would understand, hell, anyone would understand, if you had to make that choice again.”

Beth lets a tear fall down her cheek, that sick feeling returning to her.

“I don’t want to make that choice again.”

“I know. But I think you’re going to have to.”

“But it was wrong,” Beth tells her honestly. “It was the wrong choice.”

“What? No, it wasn’t,” Ruby argues. “Why would you say that? Jesus, Beth… What kind of hold has he got over you?”

Beth stays quiet, the question running through her mind over and over. What kind of hold _does_ he have over her?

She’s pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the front door being unlocked, and she watches on unmoving as it opens and Rio steps through the doorway and into the apartment.

“Ruby, I got to go,” Beth whispers without looking away from him.

“Oh no you don’t, you better not be hanging up on me right now!” 

Ruby sounds just as distressed as she had been when Beth first mentioned Rio’s name. But she cannot continue on with this conversation now that he is here.

“I’m sorry,” Beth answers guiltily. “I love you.”

“Don’t you dare…”

“We’ll talk again soon.”

***

Beth pulls the phone away from her face, despite still being able to hear Ruby’s voice calling out to her. She ends the call before she can change her mind.

Rio is watching her already as he walks over to the kitchen island and stops opposite. Neither of them say anything. Their attention is only drawn away from each other when Cisco appears from the living room, shooting Beth a small smile as he comes into the kitchen to stand at her side.

There’s a quick exchange, Beth handing his phone back over to him, Cisco pocketing it in his jeans, but then both their attention is back on Rio.

Beth’s looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to either start giving new orders to Cisco or give her marching ones if he doesn’t want her listening in, but he just continues to eye them quietly. He looks over both of them, giving nothing away, lingering on where Cisco’s phone has just disappeared into his pocket.

For a second Beth feels a sudden panic, scared that maybe Rio bugged Cisco’s phone to monitor her calls and just heard her entire conversation with Ruby.

“That the husband?"

“What? No.” Beth says, confused as to why he would think that and holding back on correcting him.

 _Ex_ -husband.

Rio sniffs in response, stretches his neck out a little all casual-like before shrugging it off.

“You’ve been crying,” he informs her. “Said I love you. Thought it might be car man.” Rio’s trying for neutral. But there’s something forced in his expression.

Beth hadn’t thought about what she must look like. She had gone straight into self-preservation mode the second she saw Rio, carefully guarding her emotions and forgetting all about her earlier tears. She resists the urge to wipe at her face. It’s too late now anyway.

“It was just Ruby,” she offers calmly. “She just said something that reminded me of better times.”

Rio nods, but she doesn’t think he believes her. Doesn’t matter. As long as he doesn’t know what really upset her, he can speculate all he likes over whether or not she is still involved with Dean.

He doesn’t say anymore, just stays quiet, long enough to have her shifting uncomfortably where she stands. 

She can’t help but use the opportunity to run her eyes over his face, relieved to see him and his healing cuts and fading bruises. She wonders about his other injuries too, knows there must have been more hidden under his clothes. Ace does like to aim for the ribs. _Did_ , she reminds herself. But she can’t tell looking at him like this and she’s certainly not going to ask.

When her eyes find his again she knows he can tell what she’s doing. They do it to each other so often it’s no longer hard for either of them to spot when the other is taking stock. His responding stare however, is not something she’s used to. It’s still empty and unaffected.

When her discomfort finally meets maximum capacity, the silence becoming unbearable, Beth decides it’s time to excuse herself. 

She glances over at Cisco who hasn’t taken his eyes off Rio, who is simply waiting for his orders patiently, and shoots him an awkward smile before pushing away from the kitchen island and stepping around him.

Rio tracks her movements, waiting until she’s passing behind the couch and about to turn into the hallway before he finally speaks up.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

Beth stops in her tracks, turns back around confused.

“I was going to leave you two to, you know, talk shop or whatever.”

Rio shakes his head at her. “Nah mama, I’m not here for that. This about you.”

Beth’s stomach turns at the notion. Rio wanting to see her is never a good thing. But she knows she has little choice in the matter and so ignores that sick feeling in her gut, and retraces her steps back into the kitchen next to Cisco.

Again, Rio doesn’t say anything, just slides a phone, her phone, across the kitchen counter towards her.

Beth glances at him curiously, then at Cisco, waiting for some form of direction. When it doesn’t come she slowly reaches forward, eyeing Rio as she does, ready to retract her hand at any indication this was not what he meant, but going ahead and picking it up when she receives none.

It surprises her as she holds it in her hand and punches in her old passcode that she’s able to unlock it. She had half expected Rio to have changed it by now to something more memorable than the meaningless numbers she had chosen years before.

What doesn’t surprise her is the way her heart aches when the photo of her kids smiling faces disappear from the lock screen to give way to the main one, but she tries not to let that show.

“Go to messages,” Rio instructs. “Top one.”

Beth gives him another cautious look, apprehensive about what she’s going to find, but does as she’s told and taps the first message in her inbox. It’s from an unknown number.

_My Dear Jessica Rabbit, I think it’s time we set up another meeting. But this time I’d like it if you could bring Roger along with you. Or does your partner prefer Rio? Just the two of you. No one else or Hector finds out. It’s time we all stepped out of the shadows._

There’s an address to some place called The Electric Poodle that Beth’s never heard of typed in a message underneath, and a meeting time under that. A glance at the clock tells her that the meeting starts in 30 minutes.

She was right. This is not good.

“DeLuca?” she asks, because no one else would refer to her as Jessica Rabbit.

Rio nods.

“He knows about you,” she says, eyes wide with alarm. “How does he know about you?”

Rio shakes his head. “Don’t know yet, the plan is to meet with him and find out.”

“What? You’re going to meet with him?” Beth asks in disbelief. “You can’t be serious?”

Rio stares at her with an expression that tells her just how serious he is.

“You can’t,” Beth argues. “You don’t even know what you’re walking into.”

“He knows about me. We don’t got a lot of choice.”

“We don’t know that he knows. Not for sure,” Beth says. “It could just be a bluff.”

“Elizabeth, he knows,” Rio says, pausing and giving her a meaningful look. “Not only did he use my name but he’s asking to meet at the Poodle. I was at the Poodle recently. It’s not a coincidence.”

“Which means someone saw you,” Beth replies pointedly, finding herself annoyed at Rio’s carelessness. “What if someone sees you again? Someone more likely to run straight to Hector? You can’t meet with him. It’s too great a risk.”

“I’m not asking for you permission. If we don’t go, he’s going to tell Hector anyway,” Rio says, his own annoyance starting to show. “It’s got to be done.”

“He could have already told Hector, you know?” Beth suggests. “This could be a trap. He could be just luring you out there so Hector can put a bullet in you.”

“In both of us,” Rio corrects.

Beth stops to take a breath at that. He’s right. This would mean the end for her too. Without Rio she loses any semblance of protection.

“Demon and Cisco are still listening in, okay?” Rio starts again, his tone placating. “We would have heard by now if he knew about me. Besides, you don’t invite someone to The Poodle if you plan on killing them. Too many witnesses.”

Beth hears Cisco snort beside her and she turns to him with narrowed eyes. She’s so not in the mood for games. Cisco gives her a sheepish look when he notices what can only be described as her mom glare, and tries to explain himself.

“The Poodle’s a strip club. Yeah there’s backrooms but it ain’t murder the girls are taking you back there for.”

Beth feels her cheeks heat up a little at the admission, but not as much as Cisco’s do.

“Of course it is,” she mumbles under her breath, rolling her eyes for good measure and turning her attention back to Rio. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Never is,” he says. “You gonna come?”

Beth can’t help but snort at that. “Do I have a choice?”

Rio doesn’t answer her, just continues to watch her. And hey, maybe she does. Maybe he was listening when she told him she was done helping him.

Beth slides her phone back across the counter to him. He still doesn’t take his eyes off her as he takes it back and pockets it in his jeans.

Beth looks between both men in the kitchen before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Let me at least change into something more suitable for a strip club,” she huffs.

Rio’s eyes light up at her words.

“Not like that,” Beth says hurriedly, cutting him off before he can let out any smartass comments. “You know what I mean,” she tells him.

But that doesn’t stop that shit-eating grin from making its way across his face, and she takes it as her cue to make a quick exit from the kitchen.

***

Beth changes out of her sweatpants and into those tight black jeans she still struggles to pull over her thighs. She isn’t going to try particularly hard here, and so she leaves her burgundy v-neck t-shirt on, and completes the outfit with a pair of comfortable black ballet flats. It’s nothing fancy, nothing compared to the last outfit DeLuca saw her in. But she’s only aiming for passable, and decides it’s enough that she won’t look too out of place next to Rio in the club.

The jeans actually fit quite nicely if she’s being honest, high-waisted and cinching her waist enough to show off her curves. They might even be something she’d buy more of herself if given the chance. Not that anyone will be paying attention to her well-fitting jeans when she’s surrounded by a bunch of half-naked girls, half her age, dancing on poles.

She emerges from her bedroom about five minutes after she entered, taking the time to run a brush through her hair and quickly adding some mascara to her otherwise bare face. Rio’s already headed downstairs during this time, so it’s Cisco that escorts her out of the apartment and into the elevator.

An uneasy feeling twists her stomach the second the doors close in front of her and they quietly wait to reach the ground floor. The last time she left the apartment things had not gone well. So far, every time she has left this apartment things have not gone well.

The first time she was in a panic to find her children and wound up having to spend the night with Rio. The second time she was attacked by Ace. She’s scared to be out in the open. Feels like anyone could spot her and recognize her, tell Hector where to find her. She only really feels safe now inside that tiny space that’s become like a second home, where Demon and Cisco are there watching over her.

She knows technically they aren’t actually watching _over_ her, that in truer words they are just keeping watch. But that doesn’t change the comfort it brings her.

Cisco walks her out the elevator and all the way to the front doors of the lobby, holding them open for her and offering a smile as she steps outside for the first time in a while.

“I’ll see you later, okay Mrs. B? I’ll be right here waiting when you get back.”

She wants to reach out and grab his hand, give it a squeeze or just pull him into a hug. Fuck technicalities, he is keeping her safe, has been for a while now. But even though she hasn’t spotted Rio yet, she can sense him watching her. So all she does is smile back at him, nod, and make her way down the steps and onto the sidewalk.

Rio’s parked right out front of the building, his black Cadillac just so out of place in a rundown neighborhood such as this. He’s leaning against the hood, arms crossed, waiting for her, and he doesn’t move a muscle as she makes her way over to him. Just watches her approach.

It feels too familiar, this scene. They’ve been here before. And maybe this is also part of the uneasiness that was churning her stomach in the elevator. Because although she knows that she’s going to be a lot safer this time with him there next to her, that he would never leave her side for anyone’s demands, this is the first time they’re going to be alone since what happened. She’s not ready for it.

It isn’t until she stops in front of him, not too close, just out of reach, that he finally moves. But first he has to look her over, taking her in the same way that he used to. But it doesn’t feel like it used to. It’s different. It makes her uncomfortable, makes her self-conscious, like maybe she did underestimate the dress code for this thing despite him wearing similar in his usual jeans and button-up.

But he doesn’t comment, just pushes off the car and walks around to the driver’s side, easily pulling the door open and sliding in.

Beth moves to do the same, taking a deep breath to steady herself, trying not to appear nervous because despite the heavy tint of the car’s windows, she knows he’ll be watching for it. But as she reaches for the passenger side door, knowing there’s no turning back after this, that creeping doubt starts to make itself known again, and her fingertips kiss the handle but do not move to open it.

Why is she doing this? Why again? Maybe she really could have said no back there. Maybe this really had been a choice and she chose wrong. She always chooses wrong.

Rio seems to sense her hesitation, because suddenly the door pops open without her help, and when she steps to the side to allow for more room, it’s his big, tan hand, pressed up against the interior of the door holding it open for her.

She doesn’t want to but she slides in, knowing Rio won’t remain patient for long. She immediately sinks into leather seats, again reminding her of a different time, something she tries to ignore. But it’s nearly impossible when Rio stays hovering over her as he pulls the door closed behind her.

Just like she thought, being alone with him again, so close to him again, it’s an onslaught. Her senses overwhelmed and overloaded. It’s the heat she can feel radiating off his skin, the steady sound of his breathing, his smell.

He doesn’t stay there long once the door closes, pulls back and slides over into his seat without so much as a glance in her direction. But the damage has already been done.

Despite his distant demeanor towards her now, there’s a part of her that still wants to be near him. He may have found some sort of closure when he angrily fucked her against her bathroom wall before carrying her to bed, but she sure didn’t.

And she can’t even blame him for his reaction. His response makes sense, his response is appropriate considering their history and current situation. She’s the one that needs to get it together. She can’t want him anymore.

He’s clearly having no trouble moving past what they did. He said it himself, his visits to The Electric Poodle are what got him spotted. Rio’s been enjoying himself while she’s been locked up in that apartment. He’s been giving other girls that burning look he once reserved for her.

Beth bites her lip, frustrated with herself as Rio pulls out onto the road and makes his way towards the inner-city streets.

Who the fuck goes to a place called The Electric Poodle anyway?

She stops herself from scoffing under her breath, tries to shake it off and just concentrate on getting her head straight for what’s about to happen.

“You worried about seeing DeLuca again?”

Beth turns to look at Rio, sees his eyes searching her expression before returning to the road. She hadn’t known he was watching her.

“No,” Beth replies honestly.

DeLuca’s the least of her problems in the grand scheme of things.

Rio glances over at her again, an eyebrow raised like he doesn’t believe her.

“He didn’t try and hurt me,” Beth offers, not really in the mood for conversing. Not when he’s so… different.

“He left you in that hotel room,” he points out, an edge to his voice, eyes narrowed but decidedly not looking at her this time.

Beth shrugs, because she knows he’ll catch it anyway. 

“I get why he did what he did. Hector scares me too. And when you’re scared you can become… desperate.”

Cruel. Beth wants to say cruel. But she fears his reaction. Fears that he’ll agree with her. Tell her that’s exactly what she was. That’s exactly what she is.

Rio stays quiet for a long moment, not ignorant to the fact Beth isn’t so subtly making reference to her own fear-based reactions to a certain situation. She expects him to call her out on it, to come back with something aimed to make her hurt. But he doesn’t.

“You don’t need to be afraid of him.”

He’s still not looking at her. But Beth hasn’t taken her eyes off him since they started talking. She tries to study his expression as she always does. And just like always, his mask is too carefully crafted for her to see behind.

“Why?” she asks tiredly, letting out a sarcastic huff of laughter, though she finds none of this funny. “Because you got to me first?”

Rio does look at her this time, eyes dark and mouth set in a hard line. He looks angry somehow, though there isn’t much to his expression. But she does note the way his jaw obviously clenches before turning back to the road ahead.

“Something like that,” he mutters.

Beth sobers a little. His clear disdain towards her attempt at light-heartedness preventing her from making any further attempts. She’s too tired for this anyhow. Instead she shifts her eyes forward too, straightening in her seat so she’s no longer angled towards him – an unintentional move she hadn’t consciously made.

There’s always tension between them, but the silence that follows is suffocating.

Beth tries her best to withstand it, wonders what her chances are of turning the radio on without being berated for touching it without his permission. Ultimately, she decides perhaps it’s just best to focus on the task at hand.

“Is there anything I need to know before we get there? Anything I need to do?”

“Yeah, keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking,” Rio tells her, his tone now bored.

Beth rolls her eyes but stays staring ahead of her. She takes a slow, deep breath in to keep herself from snapping at him. She wants to keep things calm between them. She doesn’t want him walking in there angry to meet DeLuca, especially when they don’t know what it is they’re walking into.

“Anything else?” she asks.

“Nah, not really.”

Beth nods to herself. She isn’t going to get anything more out of him, that much is obvious.

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, doing their best to ignore each other. But Beth can’t help the way her eyes keep wandering over to his hands, staring at the remaining cuts on his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel.

***

The Electric Poodle is just as terrible as Beth had imagined. The building itself is rundown and dirty looking, situated on a street corner next to an equally as rundown and dirty looking pizza shop. It’s not on a main stretch of road either, where the streets are populated with young people looking for a fun way to spend their nights. It’s on some back street, surrounded by quiet warehouses that Rio’d probably love to set up shop in.

Beth honestly can’t help herself when she shoots Rio a judging look. 

This is where he goes to get his rocks off?

Beth doesn’t get it. Maybe it’s because she’s had sex with him and she’s known him to be a certain way for so long, but she kind of assumed that a place like this where the thrills are as cheap as they are easy, weren’t of much interest to him.

There’s no one around except for two older men standing by the entrance silently smoking cigarettes. Their eyes are on her, and Beth wonders if they’ve been stationed there on purpose, if they’re part of some set up. Or if they’re just a couple of regulars stepping out for some air.

There’s no actual indication on the outside of the building that the place is in fact a strip club, just a blue neon sign above the dark doorway of the entrance of a poodle that appears to have a small lightning bolt on the meat of its hind leg just before the beginnings of its tail.

Once again, Beth cannot help the glance she shoots Rio, feeling herself growing incredibly uncomfortable at the idea of seeing him inside such a place.

“You good?” he says.

The night is quiet and cold. She should have brought a jacket.

She nods.

“You remember what I said?"

Beth’s eyes look over to the two men again, still watching her, before looking back at him and nodding.

“Keep my mouth shut, let you do the talking.”

“Yeah.”

Rio doesn’t look _not_ confident, but there’s something in his demeanor that tells her he’s unsure of himself. Or perhaps not unsure of himself, but unsure of the situation.

He turns his body away from the entrance, and she watches him pull his gun from where he’d tucked into the waistband of his pants at his back and check the magazine, and once satisfied, return it to its hiding spot.

“A’ight, let’s go.”

Walking past the two men at the entrance is a task in itself. The closer they get to them the clearer they become, and the more she can see that it isn’t her that they are staring at, but more specifically her chest. Her t-shirt barely shows a hint of cleavage, but their size is obviously still enough to attract their leers.

Rio doesn’t seem to notice or care, and he walks by them without a passing glance as Beth does her best to do the same, holding her breath until she makes it through the blacked-out glass of the entrance doors without comment.

The sound of her exhale is drowned out. As soon as they’re inside she can hear the pounding music and see the flickering lights on the other side of a small foyer. The foyer’s painted red, with matching velvet red carpet that’s covered in stains – and carpet? Really? – and there’s a bouncer in a cheap looking black suit standing by a small desk watching them expectantly.

Rio reaches into the back of his jeans, pulling out a money clip this time, not his gun – much to Beth’s relief, and discretely hands the bouncer a small wad of bills that Beth just knows far exceeds their combined cover charge.

“We’re here to meet a friend,” Rio tells him, smiling far friendlier than she’s ever seen him. “Name’s DeLuca, you happen to see him come in?”

The guy is quick to pocket the cash and return Rio’s smile.

“About 20 minutes ago sir, you the Rabbits? He paid extra for use of one of our backrooms, told me to send you guys through.”

Rio’s face doesn’t register any surprise, just pulls out some more bills and hands them to him.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s us. Now tell me, did my friend bring anyone else with him?”

The smirk on Rio’s face is disarming, even to this six-foot, brickhouse of a man.

“No sir, just himself,” he replies helpfully.

“Good, that’s good,” Rio muses gently. “There’s only so much sharing one can do.”

Beth watches dumbly as Rio’s eyes flick over to where she’s standing beside him, the bouncer eventually doing the same and giving her a onceover.

The second Beth realizes what Rio’s implying she feels the heat flooding her cheeks and she’s absolutely mortified. Must every cover story he comes up with for them be sexual?

She feels just as scandalized as she did that day in her van when he first suggested she tell Turner they were sleeping together. Though then, her blush may have had more to do with the fact she wasn’t completely opposed to the suggestion. She was aware of their attraction, even back then, although she fought like hell to quash it.

But the idea that she would willingly show up to a place called The Electric Poodle, so she could hire out a backroom and be passed back and forth between two men? Well that’s just offensive.

She doesn’t argue though, no matter how much she wants to. She can’t very well correct Rio in front of this guy and announce what they’re really here for.

So instead she just gives the guy a weak smile, mumbles a “thanks for your help,” and pushes past Rio to head out to the main floor of the Poodle before she does something stupid like slap him.

She sees much of what she expected. A long stage, lots of poles, lots of girls in barely-there lingerie, lots of men watching them. She doesn’t understand how this could appeal to anyone. The flashing lights, the loud music, the musty smell of sweat, cheap aftershave, cheap perfume, and something that can only be described as sex. She’d rather wait outside with her two smoker friends given the choice. She’s already getting a headache.

Despite walking ahead of Rio, she winds up following his lead once he catches up and starts weaving his way through the club and over to the entrance to the backrooms. The fact he seems so familiar with their location is something she chooses to ignore.

She tries to avoid catching anyone’s eye as they walk through the crowd, tries keeping her focus solely on Rio in front of her, which is why she is quick to notice the brief nod of acknowledgement he shoots one of the dancers they pass. A topless dancer, currently standing atop a podium in a gold sequined thong.

She’s lean and tan, just like him, with glossy brown curls and beautiful dark eyes. On her left breast, standing out against her golden skin, she has an ace of hearts tattoo that gently bounces as she sways, and another of a scorpion leading down beneath her thong just above her pubic bone.

She couldn’t be any more opposite to Beth. She couldn’t seem any more like a match for Rio. And that’s… she doesn’t know what that is.

The woman doesn’t acknowledge Rio in return, nor does she notice Beth behind him, but her eyes follow him and as he passes her by. If Beth had to guess, she’d say she looks angry to see him, upset even, though she’s doing an excellent job of covering it up. Beth’s just had that same look on her own face with him too many times before not to recognize it. It’s a familiar heartbreak.

Beth nearly crashes into Rio’s back when he abruptly stops in the doorway to the backrooms, exchanging words with the bouncer currently stationed there. She can’t hear what they’re saying, their voices are too low and the music too loud. But she sees it when the bouncer nods his head and indicates for them to head through.

But it’s so much worse in here. Beth can hear moaning the second she enters the narrow corridor, the music dulling and amplifying it the further down they walk. There are rows of closed doors, and a strong smell of disinfectant she hadn’t registered out on the main floor of the club. She knows why. She wishes she didn’t.

Beth has to move quickly in order to keep up with Rio, and he doesn’t wait for her when he comes to a stop in front of one of the doors and pulls it open. But he does make her wait, blocking the doorway, as he takes a quick look inside, before eventually stepping through and allowing her to follow.

The room isn’t particularly spacious, but she supposes that’s the idea. There are maroon leather couches lining the walls and another podium and pole in the center of the room, obviously allowing for a more up-close and personal experience should one desire. And it seems DeLuca does, as there’s a girl currently gyrating in front of him as he sits splayed watching from one of the couches.

Beth decides he’s no longer as handsome as she once thought, a very easy conclusion to draw as she watches him ogle some girl in a lilac bra and thong who doesn’t look a day over eighteen. He’s got on a dark suit this time, navy shirt, black tie, but he no longer looks as clean cut as she remembers. There’s something different about him. He looks tired.

Rio barely acknowledges DeLuca, blatantly ignores the girl, and just walks over to sit on one of the couches opposite him, calm and collected.

Beth, not so much. She follows awkwardly, giving DeLuca a meek nod in greeting and moving to take a seat beside Rio, not so close that they’re touching, but enough that she can feel the heat of him down her right side.

It is somewhat of a comfort, she knows Rio won’t let anything bad happen to her, or more won’t let anyone else beat him to the punch, but she still can’t help how she flinches when she feels Rio’s arm come to rest along the back of the couch behind her head.

He’s assuming his usual position, crossing his ankle over one leg as he spreads himself out, shuffling down comfortably in his seat, an expectant look on his face as he quietly eyes DeLuca, waiting for him to begin.

“Rio! Back from the dead!” DeLuca greets with delight. “And the lovely Beth Boland!” he smiles at her, before turning his attention back to the girl in the center of the room. “Thank you, dear Violet, for keeping me entertained while I waited for my guests to arrive. But time’s up now unfortunately. There’s business to attend to. Unless... Rio? Did you wish for a show before we get started? You’ve been playing dead a while now, I’d understand if you wanted to take a minute to indulge.”

Beth almost balks at the suggestion, glancing worriedly in Rio’s direction. He’s not in a particularly good mood. Beth can account for that. And he really doesn’t like it when people waste his time. If this is how DeLuca’s looking to play this meeting, it’s not going to end well.

DeLuca seems giddy. Like he’s having fun right now, like he’s clearly amused by their current predicament and is enjoying the hold he knows he has over them.

“I’m good,” Rio says, with too much venom for DeLuca to interpret him as anything but.

Violet doesn’t say anything as she hops down from the podium, accepting the money DeLuca holds out for her with a practiced smile. DeLuca’s eyes follow her warmly as she makes a quick exit from the room, only to find Beth again the second she disappears behind the closed door.

“Beth,” he starts reverently, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.”

And maybe it’s the familiarity in which he says it, or the anger she feels after such a blatant display of disrespect for them, but Beth forgets all about Rio’s reminder to let him do all the talking.

“And yet I can’t say I believe you,” she replies too sweetly. “Not after what happened last time we wound up in a room together.”

DeLuca actually has the nerve to wince at her words, look properly ashamed.

“Something I’m not proud of, I assure you. I made that deal with Hector before ever meeting you, and I highly regretted the decision upon doing so.”

“Just not enough to not go through with it,” Beth reminds him pointedly.

DeLuca shoots her a wry smile, no longer as amused as he once was. There’s something bordering on nervous creeping into his expression, something that doesn’t make any sense.

Beth doesn’t know what he expected. She isn’t particularly angry with him. Like he said, they were strangers up until that point, they still are as far as she is concerned. Beth can’t say she would have acted any differently if she were in his position. But that doesn’t mean she wants to go back to flirting with him in this backroom of a stripper bar he’s summoned them to.

He looks her over for a second, sizing her up the same way he had in the elevator before delivering her to Ace, and Beth expects Rio will use this moment as an opportunity to interrupt their little back and forth. But he remains silent, watching on, face calculating.

“All this talk about what I did that day and none of you!” DeLuca exclaims, voice purposely upbeat, trying to wash away whatever feeling was trying to worm its way in. “You sure proved capable of handling yourself. I must say, when I did finally come to, I was more impressed than anything else.”

Beth doesn’t want to be but she can’t help it, she’s flattered, she really is. It took a while for her to be able to look back on what happened as anything but horrific, but she’s able to acknowledge it now. She did handle herself that day. She saved her own life, she saved Joey’s, and she took two guys down in the process. Not as permanently as Rio likes to take people down, but still. Despite the shock and the completely inappropriate sex that followed – which she’s now going to claim was just part of the shock – he’s right. She was impressive.

Of course, she doesn’t want to give DeLuca the satisfaction of knowing he’s flattered her, so she doesn’t answer him, just continues to glare. DeLuca seems to like that though, genuinely smiling at her this time. But that just makes her more uncomfortable. Rio used to find her stubbornness amusing once upon a time too.

“Told you when we first met, didn’t I?” DeLuca says fondly. “Every man you meet won’t know what hit him until it’s too late, advice I should have heeded. Wouldn’t you agree, Rio?”

Finally, his focus shifts away from her, at least for the moment, and Beth’s focus shifts too, staring at Rio with wide, imploring eyes, wishing he’d take control of the situation already. She doesn’t feel up to this, doesn’t feel she can keep this undaunted act up for long.

But Rio doesn’t respond, to either of them. He keeps his gaze on DeLuca, chin resting comfortably in the palm of the hand that isn’t currently so close to brushing against the hair at the back of Beth’s neck. If she didn’t know any better she’d say he looks relaxed. But she does know better. Rio’s a livewire, coiled and volatile, waiting to strike at any moment.

“Oh come on,” DeLuca teases. “She ran out of there with what was supposed to be Hector’s money and Ace’s gun and barely a mark on her. You can’t tell me you weren’t impressed.”

DeLuca chuckles at the memory, sounding awfully reminiscent, as if it were anything but traumatic, before switching his gaze to Beth again.

“You still got it?” he asks. “I had never seen Ace so humiliated and the thought of you keeping his gun warm, even now after he’s gone, has been keeping me warm, so to speak.”

Beth fidgets in her seat, her own mind filling with memories from that day. From what happened after DeLuca left her. To what Ace had done with that gun before she got her hands on it. To the ache it left in her jaw.

She wants to elbow Rio in the ribs, pinch the skin of his thigh, knock shoulders with him. Anything to get him talking and take the spotlight away from her.

She knows she went against him when she started mouthing off the second they sat down, but she honestly didn’t expect he’d just sit back and let it go on for this long. She thought he would have told her to shut up by now. Maybe this is her punishment.

She’s definitely got a headache now though, and all she wants is for this to be over and done with. Her patience with DeLuca has well and truly run its course. So, she decides that if Rio isn’t going to volunteer his participation, Beth’s going to force it.

“How sweet,” Beth replies sarcastically through gritted teeth. “But I already gave it away. Wasn’t really my style,” she says and making sure to look right at Rio, “I prefer mine gold-plated, don’t I?”

Rio’s expression hardly changes, but his eyes turn black and dangerous. She can practically feel the anger radiating from him. He won’t say anything now in front of DeLuca, she knows that, he’s not going to let him see this aspect of their twisted partnership. It’s too personal. But there is no mistaking the intense rage coming off in waves as he stares at her, especially when she feels his hand slip to the back of her neck and grip the skin he finds there.

The warning is clear.

When Rio is finally able to look away from her, he straightens in his seat, moving to lean into her a little, completing their façade of a united front with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, you do mami, you really do,” he chimes in, barely missing a beat. “I wound up with the damn thing in the end. Now, I could show it to you if you want?” Rio suggests, looking at DeLuca menacingly. “Or, if you done with the chit-chat, you could tell us why we’re here.”

DeLuca looks from Rio to Beth and back again, obviously noting the change in Rio’s body language towards her. He leans forward and gestures between them.

“So you two _are_ together then? Or is this just business? Tell me, who was the mastermind behind this whole thing anyway? Mr. Rabbit?” He points at Rio. “Or Mrs.?” Now at Beth. “Cause I got to say, playing dead in order to play Hector? It is genius.”

He leans back into the couch again, waiting for their answer, but Rio still refuses to take the bait.

“How’d you find out?” Rio asks, straight to the point.

DeLuca smiles at that, clasping his hands and rubbing them together, like this whole time he’s just been dying to tell them how he managed to outsmart them.

Beth feels Rio’s own hand twitch at the back of her neck and she leans into it a little to temper him.

“Now that is an interesting story,” he begins, settling in comfortably, adoring the attention they have no choice but to give him. “When I first heard Ace was dead, I really didn’t think much of it. Ace’s pissed off a lot of people in his time. No one was particularly sorry to see him go. It wasn’t until one of my boys mentioned to me that two nights before he unceremoniously caught that final bullet, there was this guy seen asking one of the dancers about him down at the Poodle. You see, as it turns out, this dancer is my guy’s sister, and that sister was our Ace’s girl.”

Beth feels her stomach starting to knot, and she can’t help the nervous glance she shoots Rio, a movement he must clock considering where his hand is, but there’s nothing on his face that says he notices her. His attention remains with DeLuca.

“Now everyone knows Ace was trying to lay low at the time. There were only a select few of us who knew he had made it out of that warehouse alive after encountering the infamous Beth Boland here. But something else everyone knows, if you want to find a man that doesn’t want to be found, the first place you start looking is his woman."

The way DeLuca smirks at Rio, before letting his eyes slowly slide over to Beth has her skin crawling. She wants to leave. She really wants to leave. The only thing that keeps her from jumping out of her seat and making a run for the door is Rio’s hand and his unyielding grip on the back of her neck.

“Once again, I must confess, I never cared much for Ace,” DeLuca continues. “So none of this information meant all that much to me when I first heard it. But imagine my surprise when my boy goes on to tell me that this guy his sister spoke to, this quiet, mysterious stranger, he’s got a tattoo on his neck. A big one. Of an eagle."

Beth hates it when the pieces fall into place.

“The ace of hearts.” The words fall quietly from her lips without her even realizing. “Of course.”

The dancer. The tattoo. The look she gave Rio as he walked past her, the anger, and just so much pain. That was Ace’s girlfriend.

Beth is horrified. Everything makes sense now. Rio isn’t some regular here. He came looking for Ace like he promised. Only in the process, he also managed to reveal the fact he is alive and well to one of Hector’s closest associates.

DeLuca, either unnoticing or just undeterred by Beth’s reaction, smiles gloatingly, obviously proud of himself.

“You’re infamous in your own right Rio, you know that. You moved in a lot of different circles, but none so more than Hector’s. Anyone associated has heard the legend of his trusted golden boy,” he states mockingly. “It wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that. Especially once I remembered the origin story of our Jessica Rabbit here and how she used to work for you.”

Beth feels sick. She can’t even bear to look at Rio to see his reaction. It’s happened again. He’s made another mistake because of her.

Despite not being able to look at him, she has no choice but to feel the way his hand loosens at her neck, slips down to rest in the center of her back for a moment, right between her shoulders blades, before disappearing completely.

His profile slides into view then as he leans forward to plant both feet on the ground in front of him, rests his elbows against his jean-clad thighs, eyes on DeLuca.

“Well since you haven’t told Hector about me yet and instead decided to call this little meeting, I’m thinking that ain’t all there is to it. You want something. So, I’m gonna ask you again, what am I doing here?”

And there it is again, that waver in DeLuca’s armor, the concern in his expression, the arrogance fading.

“The original deal you offered me? I become your supplier, you give me an extra fifteen percent? I want to know if that’s still on the table?”

Rio’s responding laugh is sinister. “Nah, nah, you gotta be kidding me? After the shit you pulled? That ain’t gonna happen.”

Beth watches DeLuca carefully as he takes a deep breath, clears his throat a little. He’s worried about something.

“I understand why that would be your first instinct, I really do, but please hear me out,” DeLuca says. “You have to understand, it was hard for me to trust what was being offered when I didn’t know who it was that was offering it. It was why I eventually went to Hector. And even though I told him everything and didn’t take the deal, it hasn’t seemed to matter. We were negotiating for some time before I decided to go to him, and now he knows it. In his eyes? That’s betrayal enough.”

DeLuca shakes his head, suddenly a weak shadow of the confident man he was presenting himself as earlier.

“He’s done with me. He doesn’t trust me anymore, I can tell. He’s keeping me around for now because I think he thinks there’s a chance I might lead him to you,” he nods towards Beth. “But I just know, once this is over, and if he’s still standing, it’s not going to be long before he comes for me next.”

Beth, still so attuned to his ever-shifting moods, can tell the second Rio realizes that DeLuca’s essentially just admitted to needing their help. It’s in the strong lines of his back, the breadth of his shoulders, the shake of his head. He’s no longer unsure. He’s worked out what this is.

“And what makes you think I care about any of that?” Rio asks curiously, a hint of amusement in his own voice now as he leans back in his seat, the heat of his body warming Beth’s side all over again. “I don’t trust you neither.”

“But you can,” DeLuca insists. “I made a mistake siding with Hector, I know that now, but I didn’t have all the facts at the time. If someone had asked me a year ago, who in the game I thought capable of pulling something like this off, my answer would have been you, Rio. I know you’re going to get this done. And I know I can help you do it. I could be a real asset to you if you let me. I still hold a lot of a sway in Hector’s network, and I have no doubt you still do too and you’ve probably already got to some of them. But the real heavy hitters? Petrovic? Okano? The Clyde brothers? There’s no way you’re getting to them while still playing a ghost. I can. I can be that person for you. We can do this together.”

“ _We?_ There ain’t no we,” Rio shoots back, disgust lacing his words. “And I’m flattered and all, really. It sounds like you worked real hard on that speech. But it’s gonna be a hard pass, thanks all the same."

“Rio, you were once considered a smart man. Surely that couldn’t have changed in a year. This is a good deal I’m offering you.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t used to consider you a coward. People change,” Rio spits back, bristling, tension slowly starting to work its way back into the set of his shoulders.

“The position I was in, you have to understand...” DeLuca urges.

But Rio doesn’t want to hear it. “I don’t care about the position you were in-”

“-It was just one mistake!”

“You sold her out!” Rio snarls. “Left her there to die. That ain’t just _one_ mistake. You had your chance DeLuca. You messed up. And now I got no interest in anything else you trying to offer.”

“So, she is yours then,” DeLuca says. “You really going to let your personal feelings get in the way of a good deal?”

Rio lets out a frustrated groan, swiping a hand down his face before leaning in once again, distancing himself from her.

“This is business,” Rio hisses at him, voice low and full of gravel. “I get that you find her distracting, believe me, I do, but I need you to hear me when I tell you: I don’t do business with people I can’t trust. Period. This thing? Just ain’t happening. You got better luck with Hector.”

DeLuca sighs heavily, nodding his head in resignation. He seems to sense that if he were to push any further, he’d only risk seeing the full extent of Rio’s ire. There’ll be no negotiating. There’ll be no changing his mind.

DeLuca sinks back in his seat, accepting defeat.

As it turns out though, it’s Beth, who so far has remained silent since Rio decided to weigh in on the conversation, that decides he still has a fighting chance.

“I think we should do it,” she says suddenly, turning to Rio. “I think we should take the deal.”

Rio’s still leaning forward resting on his elbows, so he has to look over his shoulder in order to see her.

“And what on earth would make you think that?” he asks her slowly, staring at her like she’s lost her damn mind.

But they’re both playing parts here. Although they never talked about it on the way over, Beth has assumed the role of his partner. They retain the upper hand if they continue to present themselves as a team, rather than Beth’s reality as a forced participant, and so it’s also forcing Rio to have to bite his tongue, to have to hear her out. She doesn't know how long it’ll last. But since it was the business-savvy Jessica Rabbit that was made to meet with DeLuca in that hotel bar that day, she’s going to give Rio that same Jessica Rabbit now.

“He’s in the same position I’m in,” she begins. “Hector’s tried to kill me twice now since realizing I was the rat. At the warehouse, and then again at the hotel. I mean, yeah, there was going to be a lot of torturing me for information beforehand, but he would have got there eventually. And now, DeLuca’s shown himself to be duplicitous with me. He hasn’t got long before Hector decides he wants him dead too. Our interests are aligned.”

Rio slides back up to his full height to sit next to her. He stares at her, brow furrowed, as he thinks it over.

“How we supposed to trust him to keep his word?” he asks, his voice low, eyes focused on her like they’re the only ones in the room and this conversation is theirs.

“He’s got nothing to gain in betraying us again. And if he does tell Hector about you now, it’ll only show that he once again organized another meet-up behind his back,” Beth explains. “He can’t afford that kind of heat.”

“Or I could just put a bullet in him now, make sure he ain’t able to talk,” Rio counters.

“You kill me now, my boys go straight to Hector and tell him you’re alive and the reason business is bad!” DeLuca pipes up.

Both ignore him.

“ _Or_ ,” Beth says quietly and only to him, “we use him while we can. The deal is solid and he’s right, you need some weight behind you if you want to take Hector’s place. People aren’t going to follow you if you’ve got nothing to offer, and that means contacts, capital, esteem. You may have a mix of the three already, but you’ve been gone a while. As a new player, coming in, making moves, looking to take Hector’s crown, you need to make sure you’ve got a strong backing behind you. Strong enough that no one will call into question whether or not you deserve to be next in line for the throne.”

Rio stays quiet. He’s got that look in his eye. The one he gets when she’s said something unexpected, something clever, something that he can use.

“Okay,” he says eventually, nodding at her slowly, expression softer than she’s seen it in a long while.

He turns his attention back to an almost forgotten DeLuca.

“I’m gonna accept your offer,” he tells him. “But I’m making a couple of revisions. Hector’s going down no matter what. You don’t hold up your end of the bargain, I kill you myself. That cool?”

“What? No. That’s not-“

DeLuca stops mid-sentence when he sees Rio pull his gun from behind him and place it on the edge of the podium Violet had been dancing on. He puts his hands out in front of him in a placating manner.

“Okay, yeah, okay. It’s cool. We’re cool,” he says, nodding furiously.

“Good,” Rio smiles. “You’re gonna talk to Petrovic, Okano, the Clyde brothers and whatnot, and you’re gonna get them on board. You’re gonna tell them Hector’s gonna be dead and buried soon, and you’re gonna convince them that it’s in their best interests to align themselves accordingly. That understood?”

DeLuca doesn’t look particularly happy but he nods along.

“And you gonna keep my name out your mouth while you doing it? I don’t need you jumping the gun while I’m still getting my house in order, you hear me?”

“But they’re going to want a name.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rio exclaims loudly, his words dripping in sarcasm. “Was it not you telling me barely five minutes ago that you could get this done? ‘Cause if that ain’t the case, then I got no use for you.”

“No, no, no, I can get this done, they’ll follow me,” DeLuca assures him. “But what am I meant to tell them in the meantime. So far, the only official name you’ve ever given me is Jessica Rabbit, and while you are a wonder,” he says, acknowledging Beth again. “I don’t think that’s going to cut it with these gentlemen.”

Rio glances at Beth for a moment, his eyes moving to trail the length of her, over her chest, her thighs and back up again.

He shrugs. “Tell ‘em it ain’t only Jessica. Tell ‘em Roger Rabbit’s showed up now too.”

***

Beth’s head is pounding as they walk back through the Poodle and towards the exit. She just wants to get out of here. Her only reprieve is the fact the dancer sporting Ace’s tattoo is nowhere to be seen. She doesn’t think she could have handled seeing her again.

She can feel her breathing is off, the rise and fall of her chest unsteady, and although Rio does walk fast and she has to put in the effort to keep up, she knows it has nothing to do with her being out of breath.

There’s just too much she now knows. Too much she wishes she didn’t. She doesn’t know how to process it. She can’t stop thinking about the look on that girl’s face when she saw Rio.

The second they’re outside Beth is gulping in fresh air. Rio slows down a little too, but doesn’t come to a complete stop. The two smokers are still there by the entrance. One gestures to her as she passes by.

“See what I mean? Imagine taking a ride in those tits, you could bury yourself in them.”

She sees Rio’s steps falter in front of her, such an unusual sight in his usually confident stride. He hesitates for a moment, and Beth thinks he’s going to turn around and start something she won’t want to be a part of. But he only waits till she is at his side and then a step ahead of him, remaining there as he continues to walk her out into the parking lot and towards the car. The men’s voices fade with the distance as they become nothing but shadows, and then they are alone once again.

Beth wants to skip this bit. She just wants to be back at the apartment already. She doesn’t want to take this ride with him. She doesn’t want to talk about what was said back there.

She wishes Cisco could come and pick her up. He’d let her touch his radio without question. But there’s no chance of that happening, and they’re almost at the car when they hear a voice call out to them.

“Hey! Hey you! Stop!”

Both Rio and Beth turn around at the same time to be met with a gun pointing at them. Beth isn’t even surprised to see who’s holding it.

She’s got on a dark blue overcoat now, her gold thong and tattoos all covered up. But the way she looks at Rio remains the same. It’s utter devastation.

“You remember me?” the dancer asks, voice trembling, her eyes flickering to Rio’s right hand as he tries to draw it behind his back. “No! Stop! Let me see your hands. Put them up. Show me,” she yells.

Rio slowly does as she says, holding his open palms up and out for her to see.

“Do you remember me?” she asks again.

Rio bites his lip and nods.

“Yeah, thought so. But then again you always knew who I was, didn’t you? That’s the whole reason you were here that night.” There are tears running down her cheeks.

“Maria, you’re not thinking this through.” Rio’s voice cuts into the night, calm and smooth.

“Don’t!” she yells at him. “Don’t you dare! You used me! You used me to get to him and now he’s dead!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rio tells her, eyes never leaving her face.

He’s trying to placate her. Might even try and talk her out of this. But Beth doesn’t think Maria’s in any state to listen. Beth’s seen this before. She’s been this girl before. Scared and angry and heartbroken. There’s no talking someone down from that.

“No!” she yells back at him, openly crying now, choking on sobs. “You made out you were decent. That you were a friend. That you wanted to help. I loved him. I loved him and you killed him.”

“Rio,” Beth finds herself saying.

She can’t help it. It just slips out. But she can see that this is escalating. That this girl, Maria, is becoming more and more upset the longer she stands there pointing that gun at him. That she’s working herself up to using it.

Rio’s eyes find Beth’s, it’s just a quick glance in her direction before he’s back to watching Maria. She can’t read his expression.

She’s drawn Maria’s attention too, and although the gun remains on Rio, she’s staring at Beth now with that same desperate sadness.

“Do you know what kind of man your boyfriend is?” she asks her. “Do you know what he did to mine? To my Ace?”

Beth wants to tell Maria everything. Wants to ask her right back if she knows what Ace did to _her_. Explain how he enjoyed it. How she’s sorry she had to get mixed up in this all the same. But she’s currently holding that gun and is ready to pull the trigger, and that bullet is set to sink straight into Rio’s chest. And Beth can’t even begin to comprehend how she will react if that were to happen.

She doesn’t know why, can’t explain it, but it’s in this moment that her breathing finally goes steady. It’s in complete contrast to how she’s actually feeling, her heart is hammering away in her chest in a blinding panic. But there’s just something about the absolute peril of this moment that has the fear abating just enough, that she can calculate her next move.

“Please, don’t,” Beth begs, stepping towards Rio and trying to sound every bit the scared, clueless, suburban housewife he met that day in her kitchen. “Don’t shoot. It’s not him,” she insists, voice shaking. “You’ve got the wrong man. Christopher would never do such a thing. He couldn’t.”

She slowly comes to stand right next to him, open palm coming to the center of his chest, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling at the material.

“Tell her babe. Tell her she’s got it wrong,” she says, her voice purposely loud and erratic as she clings to him, doe-eyes wide and frantic as she plays the part of the hysterical girlfriend.

Rio narrows his eyes at her, hands still in the air above his head, clearly confused, trying without words to work out what it is she’s doing. He knows this is leading to something. He just doesn’t quite know what that is yet.

But Maria just starts yelling at her. “Move! Get away from him!” she screams. “You have no idea what he is! What he did!”

“She’s right darlin’, take a step back,” Rio tells her, voice deep and low and serious.

“Wait, please? Let me just...” Beth starts to say, locking eyes with Rio as her free hand, out of Maria’s view, makes its way into the back of his jeans and grips the handle of his gun.

The second Rio realizes what she is doing she sees the way his jaw clenches, looking down at her with begrudging acceptance as he gives her the smallest of nods. She doesn’t have time to analyze his reaction.

Instead of stepping away from him, she steps in front of him, blocking him with her body as she pulls the gun with her and levels it at Maria. She holds it steady in both hands. They do not tremble.

Maria looks like the wind’s just been knocked out of her as she realizes Beth’s deception. She actually looks betrayed as she mirrors Beth’s position, the gun aimed at her now instead.

“You’re just like him, aren’t you? You already knew,” she cries.

And she’s right. Beth is exactly like him and she hates herself for it right now. But she must push ahead.

“Put the gun down Maria,” Beth asks her gently. “Just put it down and walk away.”

“No,” Maria says weakly between heaving breaths. “He deserves to die for what he did.”

“Maria, think about this. On the off chance you manage to get a shot off before I do, he’s going to be across the parking lot and on you before I even hit the ground. How’s your trigger finger? You ever even used a gun before? Trust me, you don’t want to do this.”

“But I do,” Maria stresses, though her voice is already wavering.

“Listen to me,” Beth continues. “You think this is what you want, but I promise you, you do this? You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. The second you pull that trigger there’s no going back. Doesn’t matter what you do, or how you try and bury it, there’s nothing that will ever rid you of the guilt you’ll carry. It’ll be with you every day; it’ll be in your nightmares when you try and sleep. There’ll be no escaping it. We are the same, him and I. You don’t want to be like us. Put the gun down.”

Maria’s face screws up in anguish and a loud frustrated cry escapes her throat. Her eyes keep darting between Beth and the gun in her hands.

Beth feels Rio shift behind her, the heat of him moving closer, the barely-there touch of his fingers near her hip. Together, they wait, tension rippling between them, until finally Maria’s trembling hand lowers, and she places the gun down on the asphalt in front of her.

“That’s good,” Beth tells her, trying to sound soothing. “Now kick it over.”

Maria does, still crying, no longer any fight left in her. She doesn’t even have the energy to look scared anymore. Just sad.

The gun stops just in front of Beth’s feet, and she rests her right foot over it to keep it secure.

“Now go,” Beth demands. “Get out of here. And we’ll forget all about this.”

Maria doesn’t move at first, she hesitates, obviously unsure whether Beth really means it, or if this is just another trick and she’ll be shot dead the second her back is turned.

“Go!” Beth says again, more forcefully this time. “Run! Get out of here while I’m still the one holding the gun!”

She emphasizes that last part. Because while she doesn’t really think Rio’s going to shoot this girl in cold-blood for pointing a gun at him, especially considering what he used her for, she’s been wrong about him before.

Luckily, Maria takes the hint this time, turning on her heel and running across the parking lot. Beth doesn’t move as she watches her, still holding the gun out in front of her, even after Maria disappears around the side of the building and into the night.

They’re safe now. _He’s_ safe now. And once that sinks in Beth’s breathing starts to fail her again, coming out in short, ragged gasps at the shock sets in.

That’s when she feels him again, his front pressing along the length of her spine, his arms moving to bracket hers as he covers her hands in his and gently pries his gun from her fingers. Beth just lets him. Lets herself sink into him.

His scent wraps around her, and having him like this, so close but unseen, reminds her so much of those times when she still thought him to be dead. She stays pressed against his chest as he winds one arm around her and uses the other to tuck his gun away.

He keeps his arm there as he pulls her backwards, shifting her gently so her foot comes off the gun still on the ground, and he even keeps a steadying hand at her hip when he releases her to crouch down and retrieve it.

When he stands, his touch finally leaves her. She’s met with a solemn expression, eyes just so soft and so earnest that she knows whatever he’s about to say is bound to match. Yet she can’t bear to hear it. Not after what she now knows. Not after the role she played in the breaking of that poor girl.

“We should go,” she says, before he can get anything out.

Rio takes a deep breath in, looking at her like he’s trying to solve her, before eventually nodding.

Once they’re sitting in the car, pulling away from The Electric Poodle, both as quiet as they were on the ride in, Beth feels tears brimming her eyes, threatening to fall and slip down her face. She refuses to let them though; she doesn't feel like crying in front of him tonight. She tilts her head back against the headrest, manages to keep the tears at bay, but just because they don’t fall doesn’t mean he can’t hear the way her breathing hitches.

He turns the radio on this time, breaks the silence, lets her pretend the music is masking the sound of her cries.

***

Cisco’s waiting for her at the entrance to the apartment building, just like he said. He can tell she’s upset and the concern he shows almost makes her want to cry all over again. But after some quick assurances that she’s okay, he doesn’t try to force the issue when she bolts out the elevator and into the apartment, beelining to her bedroom and shutting herself in.

After washing herself clean of The Poodle, she tries to sleep. But it’s of no use. She can’t get her mind to switch itself off.

When Rio made her that promise to take care of Ace for her, she never actually expected anything from him. She thought he’d only said those things to calm her down at the time, and that the only way she’d see him keeping it, is if one day, in the future, his plan allowed for it. But not so soon. And certainly not on her account.

A part of her wishes she could convince herself that he had his own reasons. That his motivations were purely business. But she knows that isn’t true.

She just feels so guilty. Guilty that Rio was found out trying to keep his promise to her. Guilty for causing Maria such pain in the process. She even feels guilty that Ace had to die. Yes, he was a low-life, he did get what he deserved. But that doesn’t excuse the fact she was the cause of it. The only reason he was even on Rio’s radar was because Beth pointed him in his direction. And the only reason Beth was on Ace’s is because she helped in a plot that ended with his brother being killed. What makes her any better?

Maria loved him. She must have known there was darkness there, but she loved him anyway. She can’t help but compare, think about what she would do if the tables were turned. If it were Ace who got to Rio. Would she shoot him given the chance?

Beth sits up in bed, her feet finding the carpet below her, her eyes finding the discolored stain where Rio’s blood had collected. She had done a good job. It’s barely noticeable. She can only spot it because she knows it’s there, remembers exactly what it looked like dripping from his knuckles. How hard must he have hit Ace to cause so much damage to himself?

Beth still has that headache, never got around to taking anything for it, and although she’d rather not have to see anyone for the rest of the night, she heads for the kitchen.

She’s in one of her oversized t-shirts, white and long enough to cover her underwear. She isn’t wearing a bra either and honestly, since she practically lives with Cisco and Demon now, she’s become a lot less pedantic about them seeing her in various states of dress. It’s just an inevitable byproduct of sharing such a confined space for a period of time.

But she still tugs the hem of her shirt down around her thighs, as far as it allows, before entering the dark hallway. More for the boys’ sake than her own. Demon has never had much of a reaction, but that one time Beth came out in a towel looking for the clean laundry she’d been folding in front of the TV, Cisco had nearly had a heart attack and refused to look her in the eye for a good two hours afterwards, before eventually asking her to please not mention what had happened to Rio.

She makes her way through the quiet apartment into the kitchen, opening one of the top cupboards where she knows the painkillers are kept. The bottle’s brand new, still sealed, and for whatever reason she just can’t seem to twist the cap off.

It isn’t until she’s got a knife in hand, trying to pry the damn thing open, that she realizes that it’s too quiet, too still. That she’s alone. The lights are off in the main room, the TV too, and there wasn’t any light coming from the bathroom or spare room either when she walked past them.

This has never happened before. They’ve never just left her alone.

Her first thought is that something bad has happened. They wouldn’t have risked leaving her here on her own if it weren’t an emergency. But then she has been cooperating of late. And the deadbolts on the doors are impossible for her to force open. So maybe they just figured they could get away with it for a night.

Even though she knows there’s no chance they would have forgotten to lock the door, Beth still can’t help herself but creep over to it. Despite being alone, she’s nervous when she lifts a hand to try the doorknob, taking a deep breath before turning it and pulling. But alas, it’s locked, just like she thought. It’s as she’s half-heartedly jiggling the door in its frame a couple more times just to be sure, that she suddenly feels someone behind her, grabbing at her, pinning her.

She lets out a startled gasp but does not scream, pushing them away as hard as she can as she spins around to see who it is, an arm coming up reflexively in what she thinks will be a poor attempt to defend herself. She doesn’t even have time to process the fact that she never put the knife down and is currently swinging it towards them, but her attacker is quick to notice, grabbing a hold of her wrist and roughly pushing her up against the door.

She comes face to face with Rio, eyes wide with shock as her heart tries to beat its way out of her chest. He’s got one hand at her waist, keeping her pinned, but the other stays clamped around her the bones of her wrist, holding onto the hand that currently has a knife pressed up against his throat.

That’s even more of a shock than him sneaking up on her. She hadn’t even meant it. She just spun around when she felt hands on her, the knife coming with her.

Rio’s expression is dark and unreadable, and she hates the way she can see his Adam's apple move against the edge of the knife’s blade when he swallows.

“What are you doing, Elizabeth?”

He is stronger than her, so much stronger than her. He could easily pull the knife away from his throat. But he doesn’t. Not that he’d even need to fight her. She went limp the second she saw it was him and is actually actively trying to pull her hand away from him. He’s the one that is forcing her to keep it there, maintain the pressure against his skin.

“What’s the plan now, huh? You always got somethin’,” he whispers. “You slittin’ throats now?”

Beth lets out a whimper, shaking her head and trying again to pull the knife away. “No, no.”

Rio doesn’t budge, his hold on her tightening, and she can feel his every breath against her lips. They’re too close. Beth can only wait to see what he will do, and Rio takes the moment to study her, the same way he had earlier that night, the same way he has done since the moment they met.

Beth can’t help it when she notices it. There’s heat there.

When he does eventually let her go, his expression shifting and settling on something that can only be described as disappointment, he takes the knife with him.

Without a word, he turns his back on her and walks towards the kitchen, throwing the knife on the countertop as he passes, hard enough that she can’t help but flinch at the sound of metal clattering against marble. She’s frozen for a moment against the door, watching on confused as Rio disappears down the hallway.

When she finds her nerve, she follows him.

The lamp’s now on in the spare room and she walks towards the light, stopping in the doorway when she spots Rio sitting on the edge of the bed in there. She sees the rumpled sheets, finally notices his attire – sweatpants, t-shirt and bare feet. It dawns on her. He was sleeping in here.

It takes a minute of her just standing there staring at him with her mouth hanging open before she can say anything.

“What are you doing here?”

Rio’s looking up at her defiantly, a tan hand rubbing along his jaw, eyes scanning the length of her. It reminds her how little she’s wearing. She tries not to let it affect her.

“Cisco and Demon were needed elsewhere,” he says eventually.

Of course that’s the case. It’s not the first time this has happened. It just feels different this time. Because of what they did. Also, because instead of staying awake and alert out in the main room, he’s chosen to take up the bed in here.

“Have you been here the whole time?” she asks suddenly.

She doesn’t know why. But it just feels strange to think he’d been here the entire time she’d been in her room, unable to get him out of her head long enough to sleep.

“Nah, bit of a last-minute thing,” he says, something she should have figured out herself considering his change of clothes.

There’s an awkward pause. At least it feels awkward to her. She scrambles for something to say despite knowing she should take this opportunity to walk away, go back to her room, put an end to this.

“Suppose you had to check in with Turner’s hired help first, huh? How is that going for you?”

Rio smirks at her. “It’s not. Hasn’t been for a while now.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Staying close to Turner meant he could keep tabs on both the feds and Hector. Surely he hasn’t gone AWOL now.

Rio shrugs at her, like what he’s about to say isn’t going to set her off all over again. “Decided I didn’t feel like explaining why I looked so bloody after my meet-up with Ace.”

Beth’s eyes widen in realization. She hadn’t even thought about that. Hadn’t thought about how there was no way he could have gone back to that house, covered in all those cuts and bruises and talked his way out of it. Turner would have known immediately he was lying and had found a way to slip his security team.

“But… now he’s going to know you’re up to something?” she states dumbfounded.

Rio just shrugs again. “He was gonna catch on sooner or later.”

Beth can’t help but disagree. Turner still hadn’t suspected a thing, he was convinced he had Rio under his control.

This is her fault. Again. Just another consequence of him keeping that stupid promise to her.

Turner was still useful. Rio could have kept using him to stay hidden. What’s to stop the notoriously vengeful agent now from telling people Rio had been helping him gain access to Hector’s organization? Even if it were only to further his own cause, who would side with him then? What kingdom would be left?

Beth just doesn’t understand. Everything feels wrong. And it keeps coming back to what he did to Ace.

“Why did you do it?” she asks.

“Do what?”

“Kill Ace?”

“Told you ma,” he murmurs. “Told you I’d take care of it.”

“But why?” she says a second time. “You risked Hector finding out about you. And now you’re telling me you’ve walked out on Turner. What's going to happen if he decides to tell everyone you’re actually alive and well? What’s to stop him from plastering your face all over the news as a wanted fugitive?”

“You let me worry about that.” He’s being dismissive, but it doesn’t deter her.

“I just don’t understand it. You’re always so careful. Why would you take such a risk?”

He shrugs her off again, looking away, stretching his neck. “Felt important at the time,” he tells her quietly.

Beth doesn’t know what to say to that. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to feel about it. Does it really mean anything now? Does it really change anything?

Her eyes are drawn to the red mark on his neck, a small line at his throat, coloring the edge of his eagle’s wing from where the blade had bitten into him. She’s too tired for this. In too much pain. She still hasn’t taken those painkillers.

She walks away from him, back into the kitchen. She grabs the knife he discarded and finally cuts through the plastic seal to pull the cap off. Pouring out two pills, she quickly shoves them into her mouth, before bending her head under the sink to swallow them down with water. She doesn’t think they’re going to do anything for her now though. She’s let it go on for too long.

She wants to just walk past his doorway. Not spare him a glance. Just go to bed, go to sleep, put this night behind her. But she feels even more unsettled than she did before, already knows she won’t be getting any sleep any time soon. So with the promise of an already sleepless night ahead of her, she heads back towards the spare room in the hopes of finding an answer to at least one of the questions plaguing her mind and keeping her awake tonight.

Rio’s in the exact same spot she left him in when she comes back down the hall and pauses in his doorway. His elbow resting on his knee, chin propped up in his hand, already looking at her.

She’s hesitant to ask him anything. He never takes her questioning him particularly well. But since he’s already waiting for her and she knows he won’t volunteer to break the silence himself, she goes ahead with it.

“Are you going to go after Maria?”

Rio sits up, tilts his head to the side curiously.

“I just think... none of it was her fault. She’s the only innocent one in all of this. She doesn’t even seem to know who we are or what we do. She won’t tell anybody anything. She can be kept out of it."

Beth had been thinking about it all night. DeLuca had said that Maria had described Rio to her brother. But that was all. She didn’t know any better. Still doesn’t.

“Innocent?” Rio asks, face feigning confusion. “Did you forget the part where she pulled a gun on us?"

“You,” Beth clarifies for him. “She pulled a gun on you because you killed the man she loved and had her help you do it. You can’t blame her for what happened. She’s in mourning right now. She’s in pain.”

“Yeah, that ain’t an excuse.”

Beth has to hold back from rolling her eyes at him. “I’m not saying it’s an excuse. I’m saying it’s a consequence. Of your actions. And of mine.”

She can’t help but tack that on to the end. Because that’s what bothers her most. The role she played in all of this. She could have told Rio no, insisted that it wasn’t what she wanted. But she never said a thing. And her only concern when she found out Ace was dead, was for Rio. She never even considered that Ace would have a family, loved ones to mourn him.

Rio lets out a quiet chuckle, amused like she’s told him a joke. “’Cause you’d know all about consequences, right? About taking responsibility for your actions?”

Beth crosses her arms over her chest defensively. She has taken responsibility for what she did. She’s been dealing with the consequences of that night for over a year now.

“What did you say to Maria?” she asks instead. “What did you whisper in her ear that night that had her trusting you so completely? Must have been good for her to have told you where to find Ace.”

Rio’s expression doesn't falter. “Same sorta thing I whispered in yours to get you to drop your panties for me.”

Beth feels her cheeks flush. She hates it when he does this, hates it when he uses the intimacy they’ve shared as a weapon against her.

“Are you going to go after Maria or not?” she says, doing her best to keep her composure, trying to mask her humiliation. “Just tell me. Yes or no?”

He smirks at her in response, that same shit-eating grin he always gives her when he’s got her at a disadvantage. She can’t stand it. It reminds her of DeLuca from earlier that night.

“Don’t do that,” she snaps at him. Her frustration finally showing, her headache worsening. Why did she even bother trying to have this conversation with him?

“Do what?”

“Act all smug, like you’re enjoying this,” she says. “I might as well be back at the Poodle, sitting across from DeLuca when he couldn’t wait to tell us how he outsmarted you. You two are alike, you know? You both love a good power trip.”

Rio doesn’t like that, she can tell. And she knew he wouldn’t even before she said it. Perhaps that’s why she did. Just to wipe that smile off his face.

“Nah, nah, see, you confused,” Rio starts through gritted teeth. “That whole conversation? Your boy was bluffing. Pretending he had game before begging for my help. Much like you doing now for some bitch you don’t even know. Me and him? Ain’t alike. I don’t beg and I don’t need to pretend. This ain’t a trip. Just how it is.” He leans forward to emphasize what he says next. “DeLuca and I got only one thing in common. And our something in common...” He lets out a low whistle “He can only dream about. I’m the one who can actually get it.”

Beth goes quiet, tries to swallow against her dry throat, ignore the prickling heat clawing its way up her back. He’s doing it again. He’s throwing it in her face. Like she was the only one. Like he wasn’t right there with her.

“Just answer my question,” she manages to force out.

Rio sits up straight again, the tension leaving his shoulders, the anger uncoiling. She can tell that he’s finally letting up. That he’s decided he’s done playing with her.

“No,” he says. “That what you want to hear? I ain’t gonna waste my time chasing down some pissed off stripper. I got better things I need to take care of. And you right, she won’t be a problem. There’s a difference between some little girl crying over her dead boyfriend and a cold mami like you.”

He juts his chin out at her, staring her down, daring her. He knows if he wants to get a rise out of her, that’s the nerve he needs to hit. But she isn’t going to go there with him. She isn’t.

Instead she just nods her head in finality, ready to walk away. He’s told her what she wanted to know and that’s the only reason she had stopped in his doorway. They’re done for the night. She even starts to turn away from him, eyes finding the darkness of her own room at the end of the hall, when suddenly she’s thinking about the conversation she had with Ruby earlier that day. A conversation that already feels like a lifetime ago.

She stops before she can think better of it, turns back towards him and takes a couple of steps into the room.

“I feel guilty about what I did to you. Despite everything you say, I think you know that,” she starts, voice hesitant, confidence already wavering. “But if I were to explain it to someone, tell them everything. What you did, what I did, everything that happened in between and leading up to that moment. They’d understand. People would understand why I did what I did that night.”

She doesn’t know why she feels the need to explain this to him. She wants Ruby to be right. She wants to be justified. She wants him to acknowledge this isn’t all on her. Remind him that he did things to her too.

She expects anger, unbridled rage. Thinks he might get up and storm across the room to tower over her, grab at her, yell at her.

But instead he just nods, strangely the calmest she’s seen him all night. “People are gonna understand why I gotta do what I gotta do now too.”

And he’s right. That is the truth of it. There is no one without the other. No action without consequence. This is their reality now.

She nods back at him, studying his face, considering what it must be like to be him, to be with her after what she did.

“What if I fight back? What do you think people would say then?” she asks.

It’s an unfair question. She has no right to ask him this. It’s not like he’s going to sit there and give her his blessing to try and take him out first. But she needs him to understand. Needs him to know that whatever happens in the future, isn’t going to be because she wanted it, but because she was once again forced to make another choice. His life or her own.

Rio looks her over, shrugs a shoulder. “I think they’d understand that too.”

It feels like a weight being lifted. That small acknowledgement. That small understanding passing between them. Because there was a moment in the parking lot, when she first saw Maria pointing her gun at him, that her mind drifted back to Ruby’s voice reminding her not to wait too long, that time is running out. And it felt awful and abhorrent, and she had buried it down, unable to even consider it. But too soon the time will come. She won’t be able to ignore it. And if an opportunity presents itself again, she just might have to take it.

“Still having nightmares?”

His voice pulls her out of her reverie. She realizes she’s just been standing there staring at him, sifting through her thoughts, emotions flickering across her face, telling a story he could only read.

She nods.

“Me too.”

She doesn’t know when her eyes started to fill with tears. But when she hears that quiet admission, that’s when the first falls. She swipes at it quickly, knows he’s already seen it, but also knows he’ll ignore it if she does too.

She wants to walk over there, sit down next to him, ask him what his nightmares are about. Is she in them? Is the golden gun?

She’d stay there with him all night if he let her. Just listening to him. She wants to know him. Understand him. Understand what happened between them, what happened _to_ them, what they did, why they did it again. There’s just too much hurt and violence between them to add sex into the mix and pretend it doesn’t mean anything.

“There’s one thing in all this that I don’t think people would understand if we told them, that I don’t even understand,” Beth says, sniffing slightly as she blinks back any leftover tears.

“What’s that?” he asks. But the way he swallows tells her he already knows what she’s about to say.

“What we did the other night. In the bathroom. On the bed.”

Rio smiles at her, not meanly, but maybe a little bitter. “Nah, they would if they saw you. But you’re right, best not let that happen again.”

It’s not a clear answer, but she isn’t willing to push him for a better one. Does she really want to know how he feels about her now? After everything?

“Best not,” she agrees.

“Even if you do be standing in my doorway at two in the morning looking this good.”

He smiles at her again and this time it’s clearly a playful one. Gentle and charming. A welcomed tease, not meant to hurt but lighten the mood.

“Seriously ma,” he continues, eyes narrowing in mock concentration. “What color panties you got on under there? I’ve been trying to work it out all night.”

Beth openly laughs now, a little flustered, a little flattered, but incredibly grateful for the diversion. It surprises her to this day just how easily he can turn her mood around with a few words. She smiles at him and he grins back. And it’s like a kind of unorthodox truce has been reached between them. At least for now. Whatever happens in the future is guaranteed to involve an immeasurable amount of pain for one of them. Beth is in no hurry to find out who.

She decides now is the time. That if she were to go to bed now, she might actually be able to get some sleep.

She gives him a small nod. “Good night Rio,” she says softly.

Rio’s eyes trace over her. “Good night Elizabeth.”

She turns around, no hesitation this time. She wants to go to sleep with this moment at the forefront of her mind. The sound of his voice, the gentle pull of his smile. But she only makes it as far as the doorway when he calls out to her again.

“Elizabeth. One more thing.”

She pauses, hand on the doorframe, looks back at him.

“About what happened tonight,” he says. “You didn’t give me a chance to say it at the time, but I wanted to tell you, you did good.”

Beth wants to shake her head at him, deny it. She isn’t particularly proud of what she did, pulling a gun on Maria like that, even if it did save his life.

“Nah, I mean it,” he insists. “You handled that meeting. And you handled what happened in the parking lot. DeLuca was right about one thing. You still just as impressive now as the day you gave me that basic bitch speech at your kitchen table with a gun to your temple.” There’s a hint of teasing in his voice again, but she can tell he’s being sincere.

Beth gives him a small smile in return, shrugs a little. “People only ever really see a boring, middle-aged housewife. It helps sometimes.”

He nods his head, eyes her knowingly. “Mm, that’s true. But we both know you’re way more interesting than that.”

It’s almost painful to hear him say it. Echoing words that had once meant so much to her, had changed how she saw herself.

She clears her throat, shifts a little where she stands, gives him a small nod. “It’s late. I better go.”

She tries to walk away again, makes it out of the room this time, just out of view.

“Elizabeth.”

She stops, head down, eyes down. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment when she considers just pretending she hadn’t heard him and continuing to her room, to safety. But instead she lets out a shaky breath as she shifts back just that little bit and turns to look at him again.

He stares right back at her, lips pursed, chin up, teeth baring to sink into his bottom for a second before he himself lets out a steadying breath.

“Best not, yeah?”

And there it is. That fire in his eyes. The fire she was convinced she had seen the last of. She can feel it from across the room. It’s burning between them. Had she been seeing hints of it all night? Flickering every now and then when DeLuca had smiled at her too sweetly? When she had first slid into his leather seats? Before that when he had watched her from the hood of his car?

She doesn’t know. What she does know is what he’s asking of her. He’s echoing their sentiments from earlier. Asking her to be the one to decide when they had only just agreed that they couldn’t.

She drops her chin to her chest, closes her eyes, shaking her head at herself, at him.

Why couldn’t he just let her leave?

She finally looks back up at him. He’s watching her the same way he had in that bar bathroom, calm and patient.

“Blue,” she says.

Rio narrows his eyes at her.

She crosses the room slowly, walking over to him, stopping when she’s arm’s length away, not quite standing in between his legs but almost.

“My panties,” she explains. “They’re blue.”

Rio’s eyes widen then immediately drop to the space between her legs, to what he now knows is hidden beneath her shirt, then back up to find her face again.

Then he’s grabbing at her. Pulling her into his lap at the same time she’s climbing on to straddle him. Their lips meet before she’s even able to get a proper grip on him. Her hands eventually finding his shoulders as they kiss, messy, full of teeth and tongue.

His hands are at her thighs, squeezing the pale flesh there, hard and rough, before making his way under her shirt and ripping it off her. His hands go straight to her breasts, his mouth follows. Sucking at her nipples before she greedily grabs at his face and pulls his lips to hers again.

She loves his mouth. It’s one of her favorite things about him. Watching the way his lips quirk and slide into the warmest Cheshire grin she’s ever seen. Sometimes she gets wet just picturing it. Imagining him doing it against her cunt.

Both hands continue to cup her breasts before he’s sliding them down to her waist, dragging them to her hips, and the next thing she knows she can hear the sound of fabric tearing.

She looks down between them, lets out a groan of protest when she sees her blue panties, crotch torn apart and clenched in his fists. A groan that he ignores, pushing his mouth back onto hers and shoving his tongue between her panting lips.

A hand tucks into the waistband of her ruined underwear, the other busy sliding between her legs and rubbing over her wet cunt. Stretching the lace taut, he roughly pulls the elastic up her waist, holding it tight enough that it bites into the skin of her back and drags over her breasts until he can pull it over her head and dump it on the ground.

He leans forward to sink his teeth into the round flesh of her left breast, biting and sucking at the red mark the fabric left behind. Moving to her nipple, licking over her sternum, and starting his assault all over again on her right.

One of his hands is at her back, holding her to him, an unnecessary measure considering the way she clings to him when he uses the other hand to slip a finger inside her, arms wrapping around his shoulders, thighs locking around his hips.

He groans when he feels how wet she is, open-mouthed against her chest, a sound that vibrates through her, causing her to clench around him and him to immediately respond by adding another finger.

Beth releases one arm from where it had been locked around his shoulder, brings her hand around to cup his chin and draw him back up to her mouth, kissing him as hard as she can between the high-pitched whines he pulls out of her every time he withdraws his fingers, only to thrust them back in again.

She’s trembling in his lap, completely naked. But she doesn’t try to undress him. She still can’t risk catching a glimpse of the marks she left on him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

She reaches down between them, pulls his fingers out of her, hisses at him when he purposely drags them roughly over her clit in retaliation, his lips moving to her neck as she concentrates on pulling the waistband of his pants down, low enough that she can free him from his underwear.

He’s smooth in her hand, heavy and hard, and she decides she’d like to put her mouth on him, know what he feels like on her tongue. Not now though. She’s too far gone now. She feels empty without his fingers inside her and she’s already lifting up on her knees as he pulls at her hips so she can sink down on him.

Rio lifts up too, tugging his pants a little lower, and pulling her back down with him once he’s comfortable. He’s fully sheathed inside her then, spreading her open, and despite everything they’d been doing it still feels like too much too soon. Overwhelming and just right.

Rio crosses his arms behind her back, gripping his own forearms and pulling her in, as close as possible. He controls the pace like this with sharp, shallow thrusts, forcing her to just have to sit there and take it.

He’s panting hotly against her collarbone, mouth open and lips dragging across the skin there as she moves up and down above him. She can’t control the moans leaving her mouth and she pulls at his jaw to kiss him and drown out the sounds. But it only leads to her moaning into his mouth instead, and Rio sinks his teeth into her bottom lip to keep her there.

She cants her head forward, pressing her tongue against his teeth until he finally relinquishes and lets her in. His tongue meeting hers in a wet, messy kiss as he continues to pull her down onto his cock at an increasing pace.

She has to pull away to breathe, and Rio’s mouth finds her neck, tipping her head back, biting at her pulse point. His hand slides up her spine, fingers grabbing at the back of her neck to anchor her there, the exact same way he had earlier that night in the backroom of the Poodle.

His breathing starts becoming louder and more erratic and she knows he’s getting close. She drives her hips down as hard as she can, knowing soon she’s going to be right there with him. His arm around her waist loosens, allowing her more movement to slam her hips down against him, working herself closer and closer to her climax, taking him with her.

A strained groan escapes Rio’s mouth, and suddenly both hands are at her hips, grabbing at her roughly and pulling her up, his cock slipping out and pressing against her pubic bone as he begins to come. She looks down between them, just as the first evidence of his orgasm hits and his cum starts to paint her skin.

Beth can’t help the protest that leaves her throat. And before she knows it she’s reaching down and raising up, sliding him along the length of her cunt until she can sink back down on him.

Rio nearly shoots up off the bed, arms wrapping around her waist again, so tight that it hurts as his hips stutter up into her. Beth rocks against him once, twice, and then they’re coming together. She can hear him swear under his breath, moaning into her skin as her body goes taut around him.

She collapses against him, boneless and limp, his arms still wrapped around her the only thing keeping her upright. Rio’s face stays pressed into the swell of her chest as he tries to get his breath back, he too isn’t ready to move just yet, still dealing with the aftershocks.

When they do finally pull apart, Beth has to look down at him, has to look at his mouth so close to her bare breasts, at where they remained joined, his cock still buried deep inside of her.

She doesn't know what to say to him. She does know she needs to get off of him.

Her hands move to his shoulders as her feet find the carpet again and she tries to stand on unsteady legs. Rio releases her easily, hands adjusting his underwear, but still watching her every move, scanning the length of her body now that she’s upright, eyes lingering between her legs.

She suddenly feels too exposed in front of him like this, with his eyes looking at her like that, despite what they just did. She quickly scoops her t-shirt up from the floor, pulling it over her head inside out, and tugging it down around her thighs.

Covered up again, she looks at him, trying to think of something to say, to justify this, to make it better, to explain it away. But there’s no excuse this time. This was no heat of the moment thing. They had only just agreed that they shouldn’t.

He can’t find the words either, looking up at her, lips parted and still slightly out of breath. 

Beth doesn’t know what to do, so she starts to turn away from him, walk away again. But she feels his hand on her, wrapping around the back of her thigh and keeping her there.

She keeps her eyes on his as he slides his fingers over her skin, up and around to her hip, taking her t-shirt with it, leaving her exposed again. His eyes fall away from hers, his head craning forwards as he inspects the sticky mess currently dripping out of her and coating the insides of her thighs. Even reaches out with his free hand to touch the cum that first landed in the soft hair at her pubic bone, pressing his thumb to it and dragging it down over her slit.

Beth lets out a stuttered breath, still over-sensitive from her orgasm, and her arm shoots out and grabs at his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” falls from her mouth.

Rio tenses at that, eyes shooting back up to hers. And it’s like he’s been caught out, reminded that they shouldn’t be doing this. Which is true, but not what she meant, and she sees it when the mask comes back up.

He tries to retract his hands, the one at her hip falling away. But she holds tight to the other, careens forward a little with the strength he puts behind the movement. So she goes with it, uses his arm to steady herself as she crawls back into his lap again, knees either side of his hips, just like before.

He refuses to look at her, his jaw clenched, his expression full of anger. But not at her, she thinks. At himself. And she gets it, she really does.

She cups his cheek in her hand, takes the opportunity to run her fingers along the line of his jaw, touch her nose to his. But he still won’t look at her.

She looks down between them, at her hand still wrapped around his wrist, at the mix of cum and her own arousal still covering his thumb and probably staining his sweatpants now that she’s on top of him again. She doesn’t think twice when she pulls his hand up to her face and presses his thumb into her mouth, against her tongue, tasting them first before closing her lips around him and sucking it clean.

His eyes jump to hers immediately, or at least to her mouth, his own lips parting slightly. When she finishes, she pulls back a bit, lets him take over, and Rio rubs his thumb across her bottom lip, before dragging it down her chin and leaving a wet trail of spit.

He doesn’t look angry anymore, just conflicted, but he melts into her anyhow, holding onto her chin as he pulls her in so he can kiss her. He does that for a while, hands moving to cup her face, Beth’s hands resting at his chest as she opens her mouth for him, over and over. These kisses are slow. No longer frantic. Reminiscent to the way she first kissed him in her bedroom.

Even when he pulls away, he stays pressed against her, his forehead resting against hers, eyes closed, both hands running through her hair and tucking it behind her ears.

“This can’t happen again,” he says against her mouth.

She nods, their foreheads brushing softly with the movement. “I know.”

He wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her upright this time as he stands with her. It takes her by surprise, a gasp escaping her lips. But he presses in again, giving her one last soft kiss.

Her eyes fall closed, and she doesn’t open them when he pulls away from her, nor when she feels him brush past her. She only blinks them open when she hears the sound of the bathroom door closing in the room over.

Beth knows she can’t be here when he gets back, so she disappears into her own room. But unlike Rio, she forgoes her bathroom, doesn’t bother with the cleanup, instead just collapses straight onto her bed, her head no longer hurting, her mind finally, blissfully clear.

She falls asleep like that too, the feel of him between her thighs, letting the sound of the shower running and of Rio moving around in it, doing the complete opposite as he washes away all traces of her from his skin, lull her to sleep. 

She’ll worry about the consequences later, in the morning, when the regret and the stress and the fear kicks back in. But for now, she’s choosing to enjoy this. This feeling. This peace. The rest can wait till tomorrow.

She’s got time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. How are we feeling?


End file.
